


let me photograph you in this light

by storhan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Photographer Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7495980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storhan/pseuds/storhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I like that one,” he says, turning the camera back around to show Harry the picture he took earlier that day of Niall reading. Harry also finds himself smiling, he quite likes that one too.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Me too,” Harry says softly.</i>
</p>
<p>Or, Harry's a photography major and Niall is his muse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me photograph you in this light

Harry's sitting on a bench in the courtyard, his camera poised in his hands as he waits for inspiration to strike, but nothing has come to him yet. He sighs, leaning back against the wood of the bench, glancing over at Zayn who’s sitting next to him, drawing silently for his art class while a book lays splayed out next to him, giving the illusion that he’s also working on his report for English.

Harry runs his palms along the length of his thighs as his leg bounces on the ball of his foot. He doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or from impatience at the lack of inspiration. He also doesn’t know why he’s sitting out here in the middle of February when it’s still freezing outside, but he has to look for inspiration somewhere, and he thinks (well, hopes) he can find it within in the next hour before his class starts.

“Will you sit still for like five minutes? I can’t concentrate,” Zayn says.

Harry immediately stills himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He can’t help it really, he just gets fidgety when he’s under pressure.

The semester only started three weeks ago and Harry already has this big project due in another four weeks and he hasn’t even started it. He has to tell a story through photographs, and he could take the easy way out and just tell the story of his life or about his time at uni so far, but he wants to do something less generic because both of those ideas would only earn him a C at best, but he doesn’t want to settle for a C.

He begins by taking random photos of people around campus, capturing students on their way to their next class, some even carrying around food and eating as they go, but the one commonality Harry notices is that they’re all looking down at their phones as they walk. He supposes he could do his project on how dependent this generation is on technology or some shit like that (his professor would eat it up), but it’s another lame idea and he’s sure someone else is already going to try it.

He turns his camera on Zayn and he’s about to snap a photo when Zayn places his hand over the lens. “Get that thing out of my face,” he mutters, pushing the camera away.

Harry only frowns. “Aw, come on, Z, be my muse,” Harry pleads but Zayn just shakes his head.

“No, find another one,” Zayn says. “You always pick the most unflattering photos of me.”

“I do not,” Harry says, affronted. “I pick the most artistic ones.”

Zayn just snorts and goes back to his drawing.

Harry picks his camera back up again and goes back to searching the campus for some source of inspiration. He’s still not feeling motivated but then his lens stops on someone just across the courtyard, sitting on another bench with a guitar resting on his lap, his soft blond hair ruffling against the breeze. His finger hovers over the shutter release button, just watching the stranger tune his guitar, and if Harry really focuses, he can almost hear it carry over the wind.

He thinks he takes the picture but he’s not sure because he’s so mesmerized by this stranger. He’s never seen him around before, and Harry’s been here for almost three years. It’s one of the smaller schools in the country, and Harry tends to keep to himself most of the time, but he remembers faces fairly well, and he would  _ definitely _ remember a face as beautiful as that.

Harry takes a few photos of him, but not too many that it could be considered creepy. He’s not sure how many he takes, but he tells himself it’s all for his project - he just doesn’t know what it’s about, yet. Maybe cute blonds on campus, he thinks, but that’s not really a story, especially if it were to only include one person.

He shrugs to himself; he’ll think of something.

But he doesn’t think he’ll get to because the stranger is placing his guitar back in its case and gathering up the rest of his things. Harry’s heart drops down into his stomach; he doesn’t want him to leave just yet, but he doesn’t really have a choice when Zayn announces that he’s leaving which means Harry’s next class starts in ten minutes.

He snaps one more photo of the stranger before he goes.

-

Harry spent most of the day - using the time between his classes - to look for the stranger around campus, hoping to catch another glimpse of him, but he never found him. But he can’t worry about that now, he still hasn’t thought of an idea for his project and he tries to tell himself that he has plenty of time to come up with something, but he doesn’t want to rush it.

He also spent yesterday scouring dozens of TV channels, scrolling through his Netflix queue and he even snuck a peek into Zayn’s notebook full of drawings that he doesn’t let anyone see, even Harry, but he still came up empty. He tries to remain positive, telling himself that he just has to be patient and he’ll be rewarded with a brilliant idea that will earn him an A, but right now it’s looking very bleak.

Maybe he just needs an outside opinion. He turns to Zayn. “What do you think I should make my photography project about?”

“Leaving me alone so I can finish my own project,” Zayn says, still working on the same drawing he was yesterday. Harry’s not sure what it’s supposed to be, it almost looks like a Picasso-esque version of Zayn, but he’s not sure. He’s never been into drawing (he tried it once but when Zayn called his chicken a cow, he gave it up), instead choosing to stand behind a camera and create his own art that way.

“I’m serious, Z, I haven’t thought of anything yet and I’m freaking out,” Harry says, sounding somewhere between whiny and frantic, so Zayn sighs heavily as he turns to face Harry.

“Have you thought about doing the story of your life?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, not sure if Zayn is taking the piss or not, but Harry’s pretty sure he is. “Come on, Zayn, I know you have better ideas than that.”

“Okay, fine. What about art through the years?”

Harry thinks about it for a minute before shaking his head. “No.”

“Music through the years?”

“Did that last year,” Harry says sadly.

Zayn goes on listing different ideas, but none of them spark anything deep inside Harry. He’s beginning to think that maybe he should just stop trying to come up with an idea and let one come to him. He can tell Zayn’s getting a bit frustrated with each idea he turns down, so he thanks Zayn for the suggestions and goes back to fiddling with his camera.

Eventually he picks it back up and repeats what he did yesterday, searching through the crowd and hoping to provoke something in his brain. He thinks it must be a funny coincidence how he’s looking for inspiration and his camera pans over the pretty blond stranger again. He almost doesn’t recognize him because this time he’s wearing a football uniform, and Harry has to swallow thickly because he looks  _ fit _ . The uniform shows off the defined shape of his biceps and the tight shorts hug the muscles of his thighs.

Harry thinks he manages to takes a few photos, but he’s not sure because his palms have gone all sweaty and he’s having trouble holding onto his camera. He sets it down in his lap for a second, but still keeps his eyes on Blondie, hoping it doesn’t seem as obvious as it feels. When the stranger turns around Harry grips his camera tight and takes a picture of the back of his jersey which reads  _ Horan _ .

At least he has a name now to associate with the face that's been taking over his mind for the last twenty-four hours.

But then Horan gives him another image that seems to sear itself into Harry’s brain - and this time it’s not of his face. Harry knows he’s just stretching, probably to prepare for practice (he thinks the football team practices around this time), but his arse is on display to most of the courtyard. Harry also knows that he should probably look away, because it’s not an invitation to look, but objectively speaking, Horan has a nice bum.

“Harry?” Zayn’s voice cuts through Harry’s thoughts, and he jumps, fighting to keep a hold of his camera so he doesn’t drop it; he hadn’t realized how much he had zoned out.

“What?” Harry says, like he’s been caught by his mum with his hand in the cookie jar. He tries to keep his voice neutral, even though his heart is beating against his ribs and he’s sure he’s breathing a bit more heavily than normal.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks.

“Nothing,” Harry says quickly, but Zayn just sends him a look.

“Who are you staring at?” Zayn asks, and even though Harry knows he’s been caught, he’s still trying to think of ways he can play this off.

“No one,” he says unconvincingly. He can tell Zayn’s still skeptical, so he tries to subtly hide his camera behind his back, but Zayn’s quick enough to notice and nearly tackles Harry on the bench as he wrestles it easily out of Harry’s grip. He curses his sweaty palms as Zayn climbs off of him, and he tries to grab it back, but Zayn keeps it out of his reach, and he knows there no use in fighting him for it.

All he can do is watch as Zayn scrolls through his film, his mouth twisting up into a smirk, clearly enjoying watching Harry squirm. But he’s ready to argue that it’s no different than the hundreds of different drawings he has of Liam in various notebooks scattered over their dorm room. The only difference is that Harry doesn’t even know Horan’s first name.

“Aw, does my little Hazza have a crush?” Zayn coos, pinching at Harry’s cheek, but Harry slaps his hand away.

“No,” Harry lies, looking away from Zayn, but he catches another glimpse of Horan and has to turn back.

“Then why do I only see pictures of” - Zayn pauses, squinting at the screen to read the name on the back of the jersey - “Horan in your camera roll?”

“It’s for my project,” Harry says, still avoiding eye contact with Zayn. He knows he's not very convincing, but maybe if he's evasive enough Zayn’ll drop the subject. There's no way Harry can explain this without it sounding weird.

“Is your project on a complete stranger? I didn't see any photos of anyone else,” Zayn says, and Harry's beginning to think that Zayn is pursuing the wrong major. He'd make a really good lawyer or cop since he likes to ask so many questions.

“You're in there,” Harry says, and it's not a complete lie. He may not be as prominent on his camera roll as Horan is, but he's still in there. Somewhere.

Zayn laughs. “Hazza, you're a terrible liar,” he says, and Harry can only nod because they both know it's true.

Zayn finally gives Harry his camera back which he immediately puts back in its case; he's taken enough photos for today. He glances at the time on his phone and realizes it's almost time for class, so he bids farewell to Zayn and tries not to think about Horan or his bum on his way to class.

-

Harry's beginning to wonder if Horan’s a student here at all, because he's only ever seen him in the courtyard - he has yet to see him anywhere else. Harry and Zayn have sat on the same bench in the courtyard nearly everyday for the last three years, but for the first time in what feels like ages, there's a tinge of excitement bubbling up inside of Harry.

Zayn's sitting next to him, his ankle resting on his knee as his head bobs along to whatever's playing in his headphones. He looks so much more calmer than Harry feels. Harry almost wants to laugh, he doesn't think he's ever been this anxious to see a stranger before.

Harry busies himself by cleaning the lens of his camera, and it seems to only take another couple of minutes before Harry finally spots him. He's wearing jeans today, with a peacoat and and a gray scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair’s laying flat against his forehead and it seems extra blond today due to the sun peeking through the clouds.

Harry's heart speeds up a beat or two and he finds his hands subconsciously raising his camera up to his face. He snaps a couple quick photos when someone else walks into his shot, sitting down next to Horan on the bench. He looks familiar; Harry's pretty sure that's Louis, captain of the football team, and he only knows that because he's seen him hang around with Liam a few times.

He watches them talk, and Harry kind of wishes he could read lips so he could see what they were talking about, even though he's pretty sure it involves football. Harry zooms in on Horan’s face, admiring the lines of his face and the sunlight reflecting the sharpness of his jawline.

He's about to snap the photo, but then Horan’s expression starts to change. The corners of his mouth turn up into a soft smile. It's the most radiant smile Harry's ever seen, and it's too bad Harry's not taking poetry anymore because he's sure he could write a hundred different poems about how his smile is brighter than the sun.

Harry takes a few more photos than is probably necessary, but it's by far his favorite one that he's taken of Horan thus far, and it almost inspires him to draw again, just to recreate it on paper. But even if his drawing skills were up to par with Zayn's, he could never do it justice.

“Maybe you should go introduce yourself,” Zayn whispers into Harry's ear, and Harry startles out of his reverie. He's really got to stop spacing out so much.

“No, I can't,” Harry says, and when Zayn fixes him with the same look he did yesterday, he waves vaguely over where Louis and Horan are still talking. “I wouldn't want to interrupt.”

Zayn just rolls his eyes. “Then how are you gonna ask him out if you never introduce yourself?”

“I'm not,” Harry says. At least not yet anyway, he needs at least a week to prepare what he would say so he doesn't embarrass himself. That's why he hides behind a camera most of the time, he's very awkward in social situations, and it's only amplified in front someone as beautiful as Horan. “I'm just going to admire from afar for the rest of my life - or at least until I graduate.”

“Harry, I'm not going to watch you pine for the next year and a half. You'd be doing us a both a favor if you just went over and talked to him,” Zayn says, and Harry really wishes he would've put this much effort into helping him with his project.

“Well that's easy for you to say, now. Do I have to remind you how long it took you to talk to Liam?” Harry asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from him.

It seems to work, because Zayn's gone silent, but only for a second. “This isn't about me,” he says evasively, but there's still a flicker behind his eyes, the one he gets anytime someone mentions Liam's name. Harry looks away so Zayn doesn’t see him laugh, and he glances back over to Horan and Louis and he sees Louis pat Horan on the back before he leaves. “Go, now’s your chance,” Zayn says, pushing at Harry’s shoulder, but Harry’s rooted to his seat.

Harry takes a deep breath to steel himself, but his legs seem to have forgotten how to work. He’s got to act fast because he can see Horan packing his things back into his bag, but just as Harry finally works up the courage to stand up, Horan’s slinging the bag over his shoulder and walking off toward the music building.

Harry drops back down onto the bench with a heavy sigh. He also feels slightly relieved because he’s sure he would’ve just made a fool of himself, but he also doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance to talk to him.

Maybe tomorrow, if he doesn’t overthink it by then.

-

His day is off to fantastic start - first Harry sleeps through his alarm, then he’s forced to take a cold shower, and it takes him another five minutes just to find a clean shirt. He meant to do laundry a few days ago, but he’s just been so  _ busy _ . He knew he should’ve just saved writing the rest of his essay for later today, since it isn’t even due until tomorrow, but he wanted to be done with it and now he’s paying for it.

He feels dead on his feet despite the cold shower, and he knows he should just head straight to class, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to survive it without coffee. He’s already twenty minutes late, so he doesn’t think it’d be that big of a deal if he skipped, but he’s already gone through the trouble of dragging himself out of bed and getting dressed that he doesn’t really want to ruin his perfect attendance record.

He ducks into the on-campus coffee shop, and luckily there’s only a few people in line since half of the campus is in class, so he might be able to leave fairly quickly. It takes him all of five minutes to order his soy latte and then have the barista hand it over to him.

The cup is warm where his palms wrap around it, and he takes a small sip, letting the hot liquid wash away the cold that’s been sitting on his bones since he first stepped outside. He feels slightly more refreshed than when he woke up, and he turns to make his way out the door, ready to face his class now, but before he can actually make it to the door, he collides with something hard, nearly spilling his coffee.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says before he even sees what it is that he ran into. For all he knows it could be a wall or the door itself, but it’s not, and when his eyes flicker up and he’s met with a familiar face, his breath gets caught in his throat. It’s Horan.

He waves him off, laughing gently at the look of panic on Harry's face, and it’s the most beautiful sound Harry’s ever heard, he wishes there was a way he could capture it on camera. “It’s fine, you didn’t spill anything on me,” he says, and Harry’s not sure what he imagined his voice would sound like, but he’s still a bit surprised by the Irish accent.

“Sorry,” Harry says again, because he can’t say anything else, his brain seems unable to form words. Horan just smiles, and Harry has to shake his head to bring himself out of his trance, he’s sure he’s been staring for longer than is considered acceptable. “I’m just tired and kind of in a hurry so I should probably just -”

“Right,” Horan says, interrupting Harry’s rambling and taking a step to the side so Harry can get to the door. “Well, try not to spill your coffee on anyone.” Horan grins and Harry laughs nervously.

“I’ll try not to,” he says before rushing out the door so he doesn’t make this conversation any more awkward than it already is. It wouldn’t have been if Harry had had the time to prepare what he was going to say in his head, because he’s never been good at thinking on his feet, but Harry doesn’t think it would’ve made a difference. He’s sure he would’ve forgotten everything the second he heard Horan’s laugh.

It echoes in Harry’s head as he makes his way to class. He supposes it could’ve gone much more horribly than that. He didn’t exactly make a fool of himself like he thought he would, but he wasn’t exactly graceful either, but he never really is, according to Zayn.

And on top of all that, he still didn’t learn his name.

-

Harry’s got two tests to study for and he’s been trying to concentrate for the last two hours, and he’s spent at least half of that time rereading the same sentence over and over. There’s too many distractions going on around him - there’s a heavy bass beat vibrating the walls from next door, he can hear Zayn’s intermittent giggles as he talks to Liam on the phone, and he’s pretty sure there’s a party going on just outside of their window.

Usually Harry can put in some headphones and block it all out, but it seems like every time he closes his eyes he sees Horan’s face. He still feels slightly embarrassed about their encounter yesterday, imagining the ways in which it could’ve gone differently. But he can’t dwell on that now, he needs to  _ focus _ .

Harry sighs, running his hands through his hair in frustration and lets his forehead fall onto his open textbook. If he doesn’t study now, he’s going to fail, but he can’t study until he finds some peace and quiet.

The only place on campus that offers that is the library, and Harry doesn’t know why he didn’t think of that sooner. He stuffs his books back into his bag, grabs his jacket and scarf and tells Zayn he’s going to the library. He almost doesn’t think Zayn hears it, too absorbed in his phone call with Liam to care, but then the last thing Harry hears before he closes the door is, “Harry just left, you can come over now.”

-

It’s much quieter when he steps into the library, and he definitely thinks he’ll be able to get some studying done. He finds an empty table towards the back and makes his way over to it, passing the reception desk on the way.

He’s been to the library many times, therefore he knows he must be imagining it when he sees a blond head of hair sitting behind the desk. But he’s not and he nearly freezes when the head turns around to greet him, and Harry can see the recognition cross Horan’s face as his eyes land on Harry.

“Hello again,” he says, resting his elbows on the desk and leaning forward, inspecting Harry. “No coffee this time?”

Harry laughs nervously. “No, I wouldn’t want to spill it on you,” he jokes, and he knows it’s lame. Despite what Zayn says, he actually can be funny, but that’s the best he could come up with when he keeps running into Horan unexpectedly. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought, because Horan smiles anyway.

“Good, because I’d hate to have to buy you another one,” Horan says, and Harry really wishes his brain was working properly because he’s not sure if that’s supposed to be a joke or a pickup line.

“So, do you work here?” Harry asks, and he’s really going to hate himself if that really was a pickup line, because he doesn’t want to seem uninterested, but at the same time, he’s curious if Horan really does work here. He’s never seem him here before.

“Yep, just started,” Horan says. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

“Harry,” Harry says without hesitation, because the only thing his brain can seem to remember is his own name.

“Well, Harry, did you need help finding anything?” Niall asks.

“No, I just came here to study because I needed somewhere quiet to read because I've got these two really big tests to study for, and I left my roommate alone and now I'm pretty sure him and his boyfriend are… you know,” Harry rambles, and he's about to cover his mouth because he really should've stopped talking five seconds ago. The part of his brain that thinks about the words before they leave his mouth is currently turned off, and it's a horrible time for it. “So I'll just -” he adds, motioning vaguely towards the table that is now occupied.

To Harry's surprise, Niall laughs. He just hopes it's not  _ at _ him because he's sure he sounds like a complete idiot right now. “You don't have to - I mean, I get it, my roommate last year was the same way so I spent most of my time in the library or at my mate, Josh’s place,” he says, and it's quiet for a brief, awkward moment, but Harry's sure it's him who's making it awkward, because he's not sure how to respond. Luckily Niall does so he doesn't have to. “Anyway, I'll let you go study, and I'll be here if you do need anything.”

Niall smiles warmly at him, and all Harry can do is nod as he swallows thickly. He walks away before he embarrasses himself any further, and as Harry pulls out his books and splays them out on the new table that is much closer to Niall, Harry wonders if he would've been better off staying in his room to study, because his attention span seems to be even shorter with Niall sitting ten feet away from him.

-

It's been an hour and Harry hasn't made much progress in his studying. He'd forced himself to ignore Niall and focus on his reading, and it worked for a while, Harry finally managing to read more than one page. But he counts it as a win because it's still more progress than he made back in his room.

Harry's always felt a sense of calm in the library, and today's the first time Harry's felt slightly on edge. His leg’s bouncing uncontrollably under the table and he keeps tapping his highlighter on the table relentlessly, earning a few glares from neighboring tables. But he can't help it, he gets fidgety when he's nervous, and it's all because Niall's in such close proximity and he doesn't have his camera with him.

Even if he did, he's sure he'd be caught because every now and then he feels like there's a pair of eyes on him, studying him. But he thinks it's all in his head because anytime he looks up, there's no one looking back.

Harry decides to call it a day after he's stuck reading the same page over and over again, so he packs away his books and takes a deep breath before rising from the table and making his way back toward the entrance.

“So, how'd your studying go?” Niall asks and Harry jumps because he didn't think Niall was still here. He'd seen him disappear almost five minutes ago, he thought he left.

“Good,” Harry lies. Well, it's not a complete lie, but he didn't get as much accomplished as he had wanted to, but it's still progress, he reminds himself. “I finally read more than the same page.”

Niall breathes out a laugh. “That's good.” He pauses, scratches nervously at the back of his neck and then adds, “So, uh, my shift just ended, how about that coffee?”

“Coffee?” Harry asks dumbly. There's no way he could've heard that right, it almost sounded like Niall just asked him out.

“Yeah, what if I buy you a coffee this time?” Niall asks, but he quickly raises a finger. “Just as long as you promise not to almost spill it on me.”

“Okay,” Harry says and he feels a broad smile take over his face, he's sure his dimples are showing. “And I promise I won't.”

-

They walk to the campus coffee shop, which is conveniently located across from the library, and when they step inside Harry feels a sense of déjà vu, standing in here with Niall again. He just hopes he does repeat almost spilling his drink all over him. He shouldn't have promised that he wouldn't have, because Harry's even more clumsy when he's nervous.

Harry feels like he's getting better at keeping his nerves in check around Niall, but Niall's standing so close to him as he looks up at the menu, that Harry's heart is beating rapidly in his chest and his hands are sweaty where he's got them stuffed into his pockets.

“So what's good here?” Niall asks, leaning over to whisper into Harry's ear and it sends a shiver down Harry's spine.

“Everything, as long as you like coffee,” Harry says, and it's such a lame joke that when Niall laughs, two thoughts run through Harry’s mind: either Niall has low expectations when it comes to comedy or he’s just laughing for Harry’s benefit. Harry hopes it was the former, so he can tell Zayn that someone on this planet actually thinks he’s funny (because according to Zayn there isn't).

“Well, I do like coffee,” Niall affirms.

After they order, they take their coffees to a table over in the corner. It’s not overcrowded, and Harry doesn’t know if that makes him more or less nervous. He’s still not even sure if this is supposed to be considered a date or not, or if it was just a friendly invitation for coffee.

Harry takes a sip of his drink to push away the thought, and Harry has to keep his face tight so he doesn’t give away the fact that he just burnt his fucking tongue. This date, or whatever this outing is supposed to be, is off to a great start, Harry thinks.

Niall too takes a tentative sip of his coffee, setting it back on the table and wrapping his hands around the bottom of the cup, looking back up to Harry as he asks, “So, how long have you been here?”

“Almost three years, what about you?”

“Just transferred here,” Niall says, and that seems to answer a lot of Harry’s questions, about why he’d only just started seeing him around campus and how he’s never seem him in the library until today.

“Let me guess, from Ireland?” Harry says, and he really hopes Niall doesn’t think he’s one of those people who tries to turn everything into a joke, because he’s not, but it’s helping him relax, and the fact that Niall laughs at each one is just a bonus.

Niall pretends to look around suspiciously at the few students who are scattered around the coffee shop before he leans into Harry and whispers, “Do you think anyone knows I’m Irish?”

This time it’s Harry who laughs. “Nope,” he says, also glancing around the room like Niall just did. “I don’t think anyone suspects a thing.”

Niall just grins. “What about you, Harry? Where are you from?” he asks. “Am I detecting a bit of a Cheshire accent?”

Harry nods. “Holmes Chapel to be exact.”

“Harry from Holmes Chapel,” Niall says slowly, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “That has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

“Yeah, it does,” Harry says, smiling softly. “So, Niall from Ireland, what's your major?”

The corners of Niall's mouth turn up once again as Harry rests his chin on his hand and looks at him expectantly. He tries not to look too eager, but he wants to learn more about Niall when it doesn't involve him hiding behind a camera.

“Sound engineering,” Niall replies easily, taking another sip of his coffee, studying Harry over the lip of his cup, like he's surveying his reaction.

“Oh, my mate Liam's in that class too, do you know him?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I do.” Niall nods. “How do you know him?”

“He's my roommate’s boyfriend,” Harry says.

Niall looks like he's trying to recall something. “Zayn, right?” Harry can only nod; he's surprised Liam hasn't told the whole school about how smitten he is with Zayn, since Niall hasn't even been here for very long and he already knows. “How long have you known him?”

“Since primary school,” Harry says. “Zayn, not Liam,” he clarifies, even though he doesn't think he really needs to and he's probably just making a fool of himself again. Or maybe he's not, and he's overthinking again. “I only met Liam this year, but he's a good guy.”

“Yeah he is,” Niall says, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. “But enough about them, I wanna know more about you. What's  _ your _ major?”

“Photography,” Harry answers automatically, and Niall raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Are you any good?”

Harry scoffs. “Of course I am.”

Niall smirks, and Harry really wishes he had his camera with him so he could sneak a quick photo of how his mouth quirks up lazily as he looks at Harry. “You might have to prove it to me.”

“Well, I usually don’t let anyone see my photos, but I suppose I could show you sometime,” Harry says. It’s only an excuse (a terrible one at that), because he’ll show his photos to anyone who asks, but when that same person is the subject of most of Harry’s camera film right now, he can’t exactly show Niall that. But he’s taken plenty of other photos over the years that don’t involve Niall, so he’s not really sure why he’s making excuses.

“How about Thursday?” Niall asks, taking another drink of his coffee, and it sounds empty when he sets it back on the table. Harry wonders how long they’ve been sitting here.

“Why not tomorrow?” Harry asks. He hopes that doesn’t sound eager, he’s just genuinely curious.

“Because I have classes all day and then I have to work, but I guess you could stop by if you have to study again,” Niall says casually, but there’s something behind his eyes that tells Harry he might actually be looking forward to it as much as Harry is.

“I just might,” Harry says with a smile.

-

Harry spends the next day debating whether or not to return to the library and see Niall again. One one hand, he really does have to study, but on the other he’s not sure how much work he would get done with Niall around. He knows he’d only be going back to see Niall anyway, so he decides to just say fuck it and go. Niall doesn’t need to know that he’s not really there to study.

When he got back to his room after their coffee… whatever, it’s like he had this permanent grin on his face that he couldn’t wipe off. Zayn had asked him about it, but he easily dodged the question by asking Zayn the same exact thing, who in turn also evaded the question and didn’t bring it up again.

Harry packs his books back into his bag, just to give Zayn the illusion that he’s going to the library, which he is, but Zayn’s got his nose buried deep into a book, so Harry doesn’t think he’s paying attention anyway. He also stuffs in his photo album full of his older pictures and slips his camera bag over his shoulder and sneaks out the door before Zayn has the chance to notice.

He pulls his jacket tighter around him as he walks toward the library, even though the thought of seeing Niall again is already making his chest go warm. He steps in and he lingers for a moment, his eyes already searching for Niall. Harry finds him immediately and the breath is knocked out of him once again.

Niall's sitting behind the desk reading a book, but that's not what catches Harry off guard, it's the fact that he's wearing a pair of glasses. They make him look smart and sophisticated and  _ very _ handsome. Harry's fingers are already curling reflexively around his camera before he can even think about it. He snaps a few quick photos before he recollects himself and walks over.

“Nice glasses,” Harry says.

“Huh?” Niall mutters, tearing his eyes away from his book and raising his head in the direction of the voice, but he only smiles when he sees it’s Harry. “Oh, thanks.”

“You didn’t mention you wore them,” Harry says, trying to sound nonchalant.

“That’s because I don’t. They’re fake,” Niall says.

“Going for the aesthetic, then?” Harry says, quirking up the corner of his mouth so Niall knows it’s only a joke. “I respect that.”

Niall laughs softly. “Why, are you an aesthetic photographer?” Niall asks, nodding at the camera dangling from Harry’s shoulder.

“No,” Harry says a bit defensively. He’s not insulted, because although his instagram does consist mostly of aesthetic posts, he prefers to take candid photos of people as they go about their day. He just hates that Niall can read him so easily.

“Well, why don’t you prove me wrong, then?”

“I will,” Harry says definitively, pulling the photo album out of his bag and handing it to Niall. He pushes aside the book he had been reading and sets the photo album in front of him, glancing back at Harry before he opens it. Harry gives a small nod and watches as Niall flips the cover and examines the first photo, which Harry knows is of Anne and Gemma.

“Your mum and sister?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“They’ve got your dimples,” Niall says, his eyes meeting Harry's, and Harry's sure the heat he feels in his cheeks is visible to Niall. It must be because Niall seems to smirk in satisfaction at Harry's reaction. Niall turns his attention back to the photo album, flipping through page after page of pictures of Harry's family intermixed with some of Zayn begrudgingly smiling for the camera. “These are good,” Niall says once he's closed the book and handed it back over to Harry. “ _ You're _ good.”

Harry smiles sheepishly, the heat returning to his cheeks once again. “Thanks.”

A moment of silence passes between them before Niall asks, “So, are you here to study again?” He nods his head toward Harry's bag. “I know you didn't come all the way over here just to show me your photos.”

“Um -”

Niall bursts into laughter, a bit too loud for the library, Harry can see a few eyes pointed in their direction. “I'm kidding,” he adds when he sees the panicked look on Harry's face. He laughs too, hoping he can play it off. He's got to stop being so obvious if Niall can read him this easily.

“I know, but no, I actually came here to take pictures for my project,” he lies. Harry's usually not very good at lying, and the only reason he thinks this lie is believable is because it's not  _ entirely _ a lie. “Do you mind?”

Niall seems to ponder it for a moment. “Depends, do I get to see those photos too?” he asks, but there's still a lightness to his voice that tells Harry he's only half joking.

“Er -” Harry hesitates, his grip tightening protectively around his camera.

“What if I buy you lunch?” Niall asks, and at first Harry doesn't think he heard him right, because unlike yesterday, that  _ definitely _ sounds like a date. But that can't be right, he must be imagining things again.

“Okay,” Harry says quietly, and even though Niall beams, Harry has to remind himself that it's  _ not _ a date.

-

They walk to a small restaurant off campus, and Harry's heart hasn't stopped hammering inside his chest. It's mostly quiet between them as they walk, Niall either mentioning something about the whether or how nice it is to get away from campus, even if it's only five minutes away. Harry can only nod in agreement, his throat suddenly tight, he doesn't think he's able to talk.

He keeps close to Niall, because it's still quite cold outside and Niall looks warm, bundled up in his jacket and thick scarf, Harry wishes he had put more layers on before he left his room. Harry wonders if he's walking  _ too _ close to Niall, because every now and then their arms brush, and even though there's a few layers between the actual skin of their arms, Harry swears he can feel it and it sends a tingling sensation from his shoulder down to the tips of his fingers.

It's much warmer when they finally step inside the restaurant, and Harry's thankful because he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers. They're led to a booth in the back, away from most of the crowd, and Harry's slightly thankful, but even more nervous.

Harry slides into the other side of the booth across from Niall, his bag occupying the rest of the seat. Niall's already got his menu open, but it looks like he's the type who pretends to peruse it when he already knows what he wants. Harry on the other hand has to thoroughly read through the menu before he makes a decision.

“So what's good here?” Harry asks, repeating what Niall asked him the other day when they went for coffee.

“Anything as long as you like food,” Niall says and Harry laughs.

Their waitress walks over just as Harry decides on a salad and Niall orders a cheeseburger. The waitress walks off for a few seconds before returning with their beverages, and Harry drinks deeply from his water to calm his nerves. This feels very much like a date, but Harry can't bring himself to ask Niall if it is, because what if he's wrong? He doesn't want to embarrass himself any further in front of Niall by thinking this is something that it's not.

“So,” Harry starts, leaning back against the back of the booth, “how long have you worked in the library?”

“Just a week,” Niall replies.

“Do you like it?” Harry asks, trying to keep the conversation flowing. He thinks if he keeps talking that the fluttering feeling in his stomach will subside, but in reality he knows it has nothing to do with his nerves and everything to do with Niall.

Niall gives a noncommittal shrug. “It's alright. I'm not much of a reader, though,” he admits.

“You're not?”

Niall shakes his head. “The only book I've ever read is  _ To Kill A Mockingbird _ .”

“That's the only book you've ever read?” Harry asks incredulously. “You can't be serious.”

“Okay, it's not the  _ only _ one, I've read all the  _ Harry Potter _ books, but I guess everyone’s read those, so,” Niall says, finishing his sentence with another shrug.

“I haven't,” Harry admits. He doesn't know why he admits it, because it always turns into Harry having to explain why he's never seen the appeal of reading about wizards and magic, but he feels a need to tell Niall everything about himself.

Niall's jaw drops, and not for the first time today, Harry finds his eyes drawn down to Niall's mouth. “You haven't? Your name is literally Harry and you've never read  _ Harry Potter _ ?” he asks, and now it's Niall's turn to sound incredulous.

Harry shakes his head, suddenly feeling sheepish with the way Niall's staring at him. “I'm more of a nonfiction person.”

Niall breathes out a laugh. “Of course you are,” he says, and Harry would ask what that's supposed to mean, but Harry would rather ask how Niall can read him so well.

Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of what to say next, but luckily he doesn't have to think about it because the waitress comes back with their food, and Harry thanks her since Niall's already stuffed a chip into his mouth. It must be too hot because he immediately begins fanning a hand in front of his mouth and reaches for his water. Harry has to stifle his laugh behind his hand.

Niall must hear it, though, because he mumbles, “Shut up.” There's nothing harsh behind his words but there's a slight smile on his face, like he wants to be mad but isn't.

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry quotes, drizzling the dressing over his salad. Niall doesn't say anything, just sends him a dirty look that makes Harry laugh again. It eases him a bit, but he can still feel Niall's eyes on him as he eats.

Harry tries to steer the conversation back toward finding out more about Niall's interests, which are similar and different to Harry's at the same time. Unlike Harry he enjoys sports (watching and playing them, but prefers to play since he's on the university’s football team, but Harry just nods like he doesn't already know that) but he seems to enjoy music just as much as Harry does. They talk about their favorite bands and artists and Harry realizes that his and Niall's music tastes aren't that different; they both like older bands mixed in with newer artists and Niall even shows Harry a video of some new Irish band he's discovered. They're good, and when Harry tells him as much, Niall smiles like Harry complimented him instead.

Niall tells Harry more about his major and his future aspirations and how he wants to write and produce successful music, and maybe even perform some of it himself one day if the right opportunity presents itself. Harry can relate, he used to have dreams of performing too, but that changed when he picked up a camera for the first time and realized that he preferred being on the other side of the lens.

It continues on like that for a while, Niall telling Harry about what it's like in Ireland and about how much he misses his family, especially his nephew, but Harry kind of zones out again, his fingers curling instinctively around the camera that's still sitting on the seat next to him, thinking about how many great photos he could capture right now of the wistful look Niall has on his face as he talks about his family, and this proud, excited smile he has when he talks about music.

Niall stops speaking long enough to take a few bites of his burger, and Harry wonders if it's gone cold yet; he feels like they've been talking for ages, and he would look at his phone for the time, but he doesn't want to look like he's counting down the minutes until he can leave, nor does he want to prompt Niall to leave if they have been here for a while.

The thought is pushed from his mind when Niall sets his burger back onto his plate, launching into another story of something Harry doesn't quite hear. His eyes are drawn down to the corner of Niall's mouth where a lone bit of mustard sits. Harry finds himself lifting up his camera before he can even think about it.

Niall blinks, stunned like a bright flash has just gone off, even though there wasn't one. “Do you normally take pictures of people in the middle of a story?”

Harry lifts a shoulder in a shrug, trying to hide a grin. “Sometimes. You've got something right here, by the way,” he says, motioning to the side of his mouth.

Niall's eyes widen. “What?” He picks up his napkin from the table and begins wiping at his mouth. “And you took a picture of it?” Harry nods, trying to keep his face serious, even though he can feel the corners of his mouth lifting against his will. “That's not going in your project is it?”

Harry doesn't say anything for a few moments before he finally mumbles, “Maybe.”

“No, delete it,” Niall says, reaching for Harry's camera, but unlike with Zayn, Harry reacts quicker this time and keeps it out of his reach. Niall crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Harry from across the table, but there's no wrath behind his eyes that Harry can't contain his giggle. He thinks he's enjoying this way too much. “Fine, you can keep it, but a deal’s a deal, and you have to let me look through your film.”

“What? Oh,” Harry says. He'd almost forgotten about their little compromise. Harry hesitates for a second; they didn't technically shake on it or anything so he doesn't  _ really _ have to show Niall anything, but he did agree to come here with Niall, so it's only fair that he keeps up his end of the bargain.

He hands the camera over to Niall, silently thanking himself for putting in a new roll of film yesterday. But that doesn't stop Harry from watching him nervously, wringing his sweaty hands in his lap as Niall skims through his photos. He can't read the expression on Niall's face, so he doesn't know what he's thinking, whether he likes them or not. Harry usually doesn't care, he can take constructive criticism pretty well, but he doesn't know how he'd handle it if Niall didn't like them. But then, a smile cracks Niall's unreadable expression and relief washes over Harry.

“I like that one,” he says, turning the camera back around to show Harry the picture he took earlier that day of Niall reading. Harry also finds himself smiling, he quite likes that one too.

“Me too,” Harry says softly.

Niall only looks through a few more photos or must come to the end of the roll because he hands the camera back over to Harry. “I think those are even better than the ones you showed me earlier.” There's a moment of silence because Harry isn't really sure what to say, but he's sure the burning of his cheeks speaks for him. “So,” Niall starts again, scratching at the stubble around his jaw, “there's a football game on Saturday, and I was wondering if you'd want to come?”

It takes Harry's brain a few seconds to catch up, to make sure he heard him right. It sounds like less of a date than going out for coffee or lunch, but it can certainly be misconstrued that way because most of the spectators at those games go of their own free will and don't have to be asked to come. Harry has to wonder if Niall is reading him again and can tell he's not the sporty type and it's just a friendly invitation again, or if he actually  _ wants _ Harry to be there.

“Okay,” Harry says anyway, and the smile Harry receives from Niall makes his stomach flip in anticipation.

-

Harry thought the time between then and the game would pass by slowly, with Harry counting down the minutes until he sees Niall again, but it's gone by much faster than he anticipated, spending more time studying and finishing a few other projects. He's slightly thankful because now he doesn't have to wait so long, but he's also more nervous than he was before.

There's really no need to  _ be _ nervous, Harry thinks, because he's just going to sit in the bleachers with a bunch of other people while Niall stays on the field with the rest of the team. It's not just the two of them this time, so Harry doesn't know why he's even bothering trying to calm himself down. He's just there to watch, and that's all.

He gathers his bag and his camera and puts on his jacket, gloves and his scarf, and he's ready to leave, his hand already on the doorknob when he hears Zayn’s voice behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“To the game,” Harry says.

“The game?” Zayn asks, eyeing him suspiciously. “Since when? You hate sports.”

“Well, now I don't,” Harry says simply, turning the doorknob in his hand, hoping he can slip out the door and Zayn won't question him any further, but he knows that's just wishful thinking.

“You really are a terrible liar, you know,” Zayn says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who is he?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Harry says dismissively, suddenly feeling much warmer under all the layers he's wearing.

“Harry,” Zayn says, taking a step closer to Harry, “I've known you for more than half my life and I have never once seen you attend any type of sporting event, so I know you must be going for someone. So who is it?”

“No one,” Harry says, trying to keep his eyes focused on Zayn, because he knows if he looks away Zayn'll never let him leave until he gets an answer.

“Yeah, right. Now tell me who it is,” Zayn says, staring at Harry expectantly. Harry's silent for a moment, racking his brain for an answer that will let him leave this room and this discussion, but then Zayn's eyes widen as a sudden realization seems to dawn on him. “It's Horan isn't it?”

“His name’s Niall,” Harry mutters, finally looking away from Zayn since there's no point in trying to lie now.

“Niall?” Zayn quirks an eyebrow. “So you finally talked to him?”

“Yes, I did,” Harry says, turning the doorknob once again, but this time he's not going to stick around. “Now, if you don't mind I'm going to be late for the game.”

Zayn looks like he's about to say something else, but Harry closes the door behind him before he gets the chance.

-

This is terrible weather for a game, Harry thinks. It's still just as cold as it has been all month, and Harry's afraid to sit still for fear of freezing to death. He can feel the icy air seeping into his bones, and he thinks it's a testament to how much he likes Niall, that he's sitting in the cold to watch a game he has absolutely zero interest in, all for Niall.

They're playing against some other school that Harry doesn't bother to learn the name of because he sees Niall walk onto the field and the breath is knocked out of him once again. It's only been a few days since he's last seen Niall, but it feels like it's been ages, like he's seeing him for the first time again.

There's also a sense of déjà vu, seeing Niall in his football kit again, and Harry's glad he brought his camera. He reaches in his bag for it, just to give his fingers something to do. He snaps a few quick photos as Niall scans the crowd, spotting Harry just as he takes another picture. He smiles as he lifts his hand in a small wave, and Harry does the same.

The game commences and Harry watches the opposing team pass the ball from player to player, and Harry can hear cheering from their supporters on the other side of the field. One of them takes an early shot at the goal, but the angle’s off and it rebounds off the goalpost, earning a collective groan from across the field.

Suddenly everyone around Harry starts cheering, and it's then that he realizes Niall's now chasing the ball down the field. Harry raises his camera again, takes a few more pictures, and waits with baited breath as Niall tries to maneuver the ball around the opposing player. Harry doesn't know how he manages it, but he sees the ball hit the net and he finds himself cheering along with the rest of the crowd.

That seems to set the tone for the rest of the game. Niall scores a few more goals, along with a few of his teammates (including Louis, the one he saw Niall talking to in the courtyard). The other team, however, does manage to score a couple of times, but it's not nearly enough and they lose 6-2.

Harry never thought he'd say he had fun at a football game, but he did, and it was just an added bonus that Niall would peek over in Harry's direction each time he scored. His heart’s still fluttering from it and he's still riding the high of victory even though he didn't actually play, but it's exhilarating all the same.

He lingers behind, waiting for most of the crowd to dissipate before he climbs down from the bleachers. The players have long since left the field, so Harry's not sure where Niall went off to. He's also not sure if he should stick around and congratulate Niall on the game, or if Niall's already left.

He's only got one foot on the ground when a hand suddenly wraps around his arm. When he turns his head he's met with Niall's bright smile, and he stumbles a bit as he brings his other foot down to the grass. Niall's hand tightens around Harry's arm to keep him steady.

“Hey,” Niall says, his hand lingering on Harry's arm for a moment before he drops it to his side.

“Hey,” Harry echoes, his brain taking a minute to catch up because he can still feel the phantom heat of Niall's hand, even through all his layers. “Congrats on the game, you guys played well.”

“Thanks.” Niall beams, running a hand through his sweaty hair. Harry tries to keep his eyes on Niall's face, so he doesn't get caught staring at the sweat trailing down the front of his reddened chest where his tank top dips down to reveal a dark patch of hair. “You came on a good day, I suppose. We're lucky if we can score three goals in one game. You must be a good luck charm or something.”

Niall nudges Harry's shoulder and all Harry can do is let out a nervous laugh because he's not really sure how to respond to that. Luckily he doesn't have to because he sees the boy from the courtyard appear next to Niall's side, clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him on the game before his eyes finally settle on Harry.

“Who's this?” he asks, but there's an airiness to his voice like he already knows.

“This is Harry. Harry this is Louis, he's the team captain,” Niall says.

Louis raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “Ah, so  _ this _ is Harry.” Louis holds out his hand for Harry to shake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Harry looks between Niall, whose cheeks are turning even more red than they already were, and Louis before shaking his hand. “You too,” he replies quietly.

“It sounds like you two have been spending a lot of time together,” Louis says, sending a smirk in Niall's direction and Harry feels like he's witnessing some inside joke that he's not apart of.

“I don't know about that…” Harry says, trying for casual. He's not sure what Louis means by “a lot” because they could have very different definitions. Yes, they have been spending quite a bit of time together, but it's not like they've spent every waking moment together (not that Harry would mind, but that's besides the point).

“So, Niall tells me you're a photography major?” Louis says, and Harry's glad for the change of subject.

“Yeah,” Harry says, adjusting his camera higher up on his shoulder. Louis nods along, like he's waiting for Harry to say something else.

“Well, I wish I could stay and get to know more about you, but the team and I are going out to celebrate our win, you in Nialler?” Louis says, turning to look at Niall.

“Yeah, I'll be right there,” Niall says and Louis claps him on the shoulder once more, sending him another look, seeming to communicate something nonverbally as he nudges him gently in the side before he leaves.

“He seems… nice,” Harry says, just to break the silence.

Niall laughs, a bit loudly, and Harry's slightly confused because he didn't think he’d said it sarcastically. Maybe he did, he's not sure; he can't really think with the sound of Niall's laugh ringing in his ears. “Wait until you get to know him.”

There's a moment of silence where Harry debates about whether or not to bring up what Louis said, but there's a deep curiosity and a need to know, so he goes for it, keeping his voice casual again as he asks, “So, you talk about me?”

Niall seems to hide a nervous smile as he ducks his head down to scratch at the back of his neck, the flush in his cheeks steadily moving down to his neck and chest. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen him so nervous. “Yeah, but only a little bit though. Louis wouldn't leave me alone until I told him who I've been spending so much time with.” Harry nods in understanding because Zayn was basically the same way this morning. “So, I should probably go meet up with the rest of the team, but hopefully I'll see you at the next game? Or sooner?”

“How about tomorrow?” Harry blurts, and he wants to smack himself for sounding so eager, but there's a sudden burst of courage that's erupted inside of him because all he can think about it seeing Niall again.

A wide grin spreads across Niall's before it quickly turns into a frown. “I can't, I have to study.”

Harry frowns too. “Yeah, I probably should too.”

There's a long moment of silence where Harry wonders if he should leave, but then Niall suggests, “Maybe we could study together?”

Harry's frown disappears as quickly as it had appeared. “Okay.”

“You could come around to mine, if you want? My roommate has classes all day so it'll be quiet and empty.”

“Sounds good,” Harry says, not bothering to hide the excited grin on his face.

-

Harry's never been so nervous to study in his life. But then again, he usually tries to avoid distractions while studying and he'll be surprised if he still passes this test.  _ No _ , he tells himself, his education is more important than anything and that's what he should focus on, no matter how much he'd like to just sit there and stare at Niall.

He stands in front of Niall's door, taking a minute to gather himself and to try and focus on anything other than the pounding of his heart. Harry knocks on the door and lifts his head up, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as he feels.

It's just studying, Harry reminds himself. With Niall. No big deal.

Niall greets him as he opens the door, and he looks relaxed, in a pair of jeans that hugs his legs, a soft white t-shirt and his hair resting against his forehead. Harry steps inside and Niall immediately apologizes for the mess, even though there's really no need to, when Zayn’s side of their room looks much worse.

“You can take the bed if you want,” Niall says. “Unless you want the desk, I could move my stuff -”

“No, that's okay,” Harry says. “The bed’s fine.” Harry gives him a reassuring smile that Niall mirrors.

“Alright, well, I'll let you get to work,” Niall says, motioning toward the bed.

Harry moves over toward the bed and sits down, the mattress giving a small squeak under his weight. It feels weird, sitting in Niall's bed, but Harry tries not to let his train of thought wander too far on that idea.

He pulls out his books and spreads them out over Niall's duvet, and sets about studying. It starts off well, at least he thinks it does, because he's already past the first page, but there's still that temptation to glance over at Niall. He fights it, and let's the silence consume him as he focuses all of his attention on his textbook.

Harry doesn't know how, but somehow the silence turns from a nervous one to a comfortable one, and Harry can feel himself relaxing. He decides to give himself a break and rolls over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he listens to the scratches of Niall's pen on paper as he writes. If Harry closes his eyes he's sure he'd be able to fall asleep.

He doesn't, though, and rolls back over onto his stomach, but doesn't go back to his books. Instead he gives a cursory glance around the room, even though there's not much to see. There's mostly clothes hanging off of every surface of the room, but there's also a guitar sitting in the corner, the one Harry'd seen Niall tuning that day in the courtyard.

He wants to ask about it, to see if Niall would maybe play it again, but he doesn't want to disturb Niall's studying. But then Niall leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“Do you play?” Harry asks, nodding his head toward the guitar, as if he doesn't already know.

“Since I was twelve,” Niall says proudly, picking up the guitar and setting it in his lap. He strums a few chords before his fingers seem to move across the strings of their own accord, like he's playing something from memory. Harry finds himself reaching for his camera, and Niall doesn't seem to notice that Harry takes a photo or two.

Niall stops playing and sets the guitar back on its stand and swivels his chair back around to face Harry.

“You're good,” Harry says. “I wish I knew how to play.”

“Maybe I could teach you sometime,” Niall offers and Harry nods with a smile. Niall continues to stare at him, but Harry can't bring himself to look away. He no longer feels nervous, only a sense of ease. “Well, I'll let you get back to your studying,” Niall finally says, turning back around to face the desk, reabsorbing himself in his work.

Harry, however, has a harder time getting his concentration back. The song Niall played is stuck in his head, and it's not like anything Harry's heard before and he wonders if it's something Niall's written.

He pushes that thought from his mind, because he really should get back to studying, but he can't. He seems more aware of Niall's presence now, and Harry's just now realizing how small the room is.

He pushes his books aside and stares at his camera that's still resting next to him. Harry glances over his shoulder and sees Niall hunched over the desk, with a pen in his mouth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Harry's finger quickly presses the shutter button and sneaks a quick photo. Harry grins to himself as he looks back at the photo; it's becoming hard for him to pick a favorite.

“Do you have a red pen I could borrow?” Niall suddenly asks. “Mine ran out of ink.”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says, reaching in his bag for his pen and holding it out for Niall. It's not much of a reach, Niall could easily grab it without having to get up from his chair, but he stands anyway and sits next to Harry on the bed.

“Take any good pictures lately?” Niall asks, looking over Harry's shoulder at the camera screen. Harry almost wants to hide it away from Niall's view, because it must look weird with Harry taking all these photos of Niall, but he only laughs when he sees the picture Harry just took. “You're sneaky. I didn't even know you took that.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, because he forgets sometimes that some people don't like having their picture taken without their knowledge. Lord knows he's heard it enough times from Zayn.

“Don't be, I kinda like it. Makes me look smart,” Niall says, and even though Harry's not looking at him, he can still hear the smile in his voice. He relaxes a bit, but it doesn't last long because then Niall's hand wraps around Harry's, the one that's holding the camera, and scrolls back through the other photos Harry's taken today. He's not sure whether to feel embarrassed or if he should move his hand, but he feels frozen, and the only thing he can feel is where Niall's hand is holding his. “Harry,” Niall says softly, but it sounds so loud in the silent room.

“Hmm?” Harry hums, waiting for Niall to finish whatever he was going to say. His eyes are still focused on the camera, but Niall curls a finger under Harry's chin until he's looking up at him. He's expecting Niall to say something serious, so he's a bit taken aback when he doesn't say anything at all and just kisses him. Harry would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this moment, but he still has to pinch himself to convince himself that this is actually happening. “What was that for?” he asks dumbly when Niall finally pulls away.

Niall just shrugs, like it's no big deal, like Harry's heart isn't pounding so hard against his chest that he can feel it in his ears. “Because I wanted to,” he says, looking from Harry's lips back up to his eyes. “And if you haven't noticed, I kinda like you.”

Harry blinks. “You do?” he asks, just to make sure he heard him right.

Niall laughs gently, nodding. “Harry, I've asked you out on like three dates -”

“Wait, those were dates?” Harry asks. He feels relieved because now he knows he wasn't imagining it, but he still feels the need to clarify.

Niall nods again. “Yes. What else would you call two people going out for coffee and lunch?”

“A friendly invitation?” Harry tries and when Niall laughs, Harry finds himself falling into giggles too. “Sorry, I've been told I can be a bit oblivious.”

“A bit?” Niall says and Harry shoves at his shoulder.

Harry repositions himself on the bed so he's now sitting up, and tugs at the hem of Niall's shirt. “Can we stop talking now?” he says, and Niall smirks as he leans in, pressing Harry back into the mattress as he kisses him again.

-

“Where have you been?” Zayn asks with an air of curiosity, setting his drawing aside when Harry walks in, seemingly more interested in wherever Harry's been than his art.

“Nowhere,” Harry lies, turning away from Zayn so he won't see the flush on his cheeks. He'd tried to fix his hair and shirt so he didn't look so disheveled, but he must not have done a good job of it because Zayn seems to have picked up on it.

“Harry, how many times do I have to tell you that you're a horrible liar? I don't know why you even still try, to be honest,” Zayn says, crossing his arms and looking sternly at Harry, just like his mum did when Gemma broke a vase but blamed it on Harry.

“Because it's none of your business,” Harry says flatly.

“Aw, come on, Hazza, you used to tell me everything,” Zayn says, and Harry knows he's mocking him. He'd been the same way after Zayn came back from his first date with Liam and he wouldn't let Zayn sleep until he got all the details. He kind of regrets it now.

“Well, some things should be kept secret.”

“Okay, I see how it is,” Zayn says slowly. “I do love a guessing game. Turn around.” Harry obeys, slowly, trying to contain his grin and the giddiness that's bubbling inside of him. “Closer,” Zayn says, crooking a finger at Harry, and he's not sure why it matters, but he does it anyway just to humor Zayn and takes a few steps forward. Zayn scrutinizes him for a moment, his eyes roaming Harry's face. “Your hair’s a bit messier than usual, and your lips look a bit red and swollen so you've definitely been kissing someone and - oh my god, is that a lovebite?”

“What? No,” Harry says, aghast, immediately bringing a hand up to his neck even though he knows there's nothing there and that Zayn's just fucking with him. It seems to be the intended reaction because Zayn just laughs.

“So you were with Niall, then?” Zayn asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.

Harry opens his mouth to answer, ready to say no, but he can feel his grin returning, remembering how Niall admitted that he liked Harry and how they had spent the rest of their study date kissing rather than being productive. “Yeah,” he admits, biting his lip to try and contain the grin that he's sure is going to split his face in two.

“I knew it,” Zayn says a bit smugly as the corners of his mouth turn up to mirror Harry's. “Does this mean you two are a thing now?”

Harry just shrugs. “I don't know, but he invited me to another game on Saturday. You should come,” he offers.

Zayn wrinkles his nose like it's a terrible idea, because the only person who hates sports more than Harry is Zayn. “Only if I can bring Liam.”

Harry sighs, but it's not like he was expecting any other answer. “Fine.” He tries to sound exasperated, but he's sure his face looks the complete opposite, his mind still replaying the kiss Niall placed to his cheek with the promise to see him again before he left. His cheek still burns from it, but he pushes it out of his mind for now so he can focus on the rest of his reading that he'd been distracted from.

-

The weather’s improved slightly since the last game, but Harry doesn't think it'd really make a difference since he can't seem to sit still. He feels anxious and excited, hoping that they can capture another win. With Niall on the team, Harry thinks they will, and he envisions himself running onto the field after Niall's scored the winning goal and giving him a victory kiss.

He shakes the thought away because even though it's likely they'll win, he's still getting a bit ahead of himself, so he picks up his camera to have something to do in the meantime. He takes a few photos of Niall walking onto the field, stretching and high-fiving the rest of the team.

“Have you thought of an idea for your project yet?” Zayn suddenly asks, and Harry can see his eyes flicker down to the screen of the camera trying to get a peek, but Harry turns it the other way.

“Maybe,” Harry says casually, hoping the game starts soon so he has an excuse to ignore Zayn. He thinks he might have an idea for his project, but he doesn't want to reveal it out loud just yet.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, and Liam seems interested now too. Harry doesn't need four eyes staring at him, but at least Liam is kind enough not to pester him about it. He wishes the same could be said for Zayn.

“If I tell you it ruins the surprise,” Harry replies.

“Harry, it's not a surprise if I know it's going to be about Niall,” Zayn points out and Harry has to look away for a moment. Yes, his project will have Niall in it, but Zayn doesn't need to know any more than that.

“Your boyfriend?” Liam chimes in.

“My what?” Harry splutters as he stares blankly at Liam before glancing back at Zayn who looks somewhere between smug and guilty. “No, he's not.”

“But Zayn said -” Liam starts, but cuts himself off, looking sheepish when Harry glares at Zayn.

“Well, Zayn was wrong,” Harry says, still glaring at Zayn, but Zayn doesn't meet his eyes, taking a sudden interest in the game that Harry can tell has already started.

He lets it go for now and turns his attention back to the field and Niall. He watches Louis pass the ball to Niall, who chases it toward the goal - only to have it stolen by the other team. There's a collective groan (from Harry included), and the feeling’s only amplified when the other team scores.

It's still early, Harry reminds himself, there's still plenty of time left and it's only the first goal of the game. But Harry starts to slowly lose hope as the opposing team scores two more goals and they're still stuck at zero. But Harry tries to remain optimistic because it isn't even halftime yet and they can easily make a comeback.

The game eventually pauses and Harry stares forlornly at the scoreboard before he watches Niall plop down on a bench, reaching for a water bottle and chugging it all in one go. His eyes are drawn down to his neck where his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the way Niall's lips are wrapped around the bottle makes Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat.

He turns back to Zayn to try and get his mind out of the gutter. Liam comes back with drinks, handing Harry a water bottle, and Harry swallows thickly as he takes it with a shaky hand that he blames on the cold.

The game resumes not much later, and Harry can tell Niall's doubling his efforts to get the ball. He does, and he passes it over to Louis who's waiting by the goal, and before Harry knows it, the score is now 3-1.

That seems to boost the team morale because they score two more goals within twenty minutes. Harry's not sure what's happening but he is quite literally on the edge of his seat, because whoever scores the next goal could possibly win the game. Niall glances in Harry's direction and he gives him a thumbs up of encouragement and ignores the smirk Zayn sends his way.

A player from the other team snags the ball away and with no one in his way, makes it all the way down the other side of the field and kicks it toward the goal. Harry can feel himself rising out of his seat, but sags back down with a sigh of relief when the goalie catches it. He passes it back to Niall who weaves his way back toward the other goal, and Harry can't help but glance at the time remaining - two minutes.

Niall stops moving, his foot still on the ball as he looks between teammates, weighing his options. He waits for the opportunity and kicks it through another player’s legs towards Louis, who draws the goalie away from Niall as Niall moves closer to the goal. Louis kicks the ball back to Niall who easily has an open shot and takes it.

Harry's on his feet, cheering with everyone else before he even realizes it. They won.

Harry really hates himself for choosing to sit in the middle of the bleachers because now he can't immediately run onto the field and congratulate Niall like he wants to. He's usually a patient person, so he tries to wait as calmly as he can before there's a parting big enough for him to slip through and races down the bleachers, ignoring Zayn's protests and Liam asking him where he's going.

He can still see the team gathered around Niall in the middle of the field, hugging him, clapping him on the back and ruffling his hair. It'd make a good picture, but Harry doesn't have time to reach for his camera because then Niall's eyes meet his and he pulls away from the team, jogging over to Harry with the widest grin he's ever seen. Before Harry has time to process it, Niall's hands are on his cheeks and he's pulling him in for a kiss.

Harry's a bit stunned, but welcomes it nonetheless, all the noise around them disappearing for a few seconds. Someone behind them clears their throat just as Niall pulls away, and Harry takes a step back, smoothing out his jacket and fixing his scarf as he turns around to see a smug looking Zayn and a red-faced Liam who looks like he just walked in on a private moment.

Niall, however, doesn't seem to have noticed them and continues to beam at Harry. “I told you you were a good luck charm,” he says, patting at Harry's arm and then leaving his hand there. Harry's sure he can feel the heat from it.

“A good luck charm, huh?” Zayn says, stepping forward to put his arm around Harry's shoulder. “Maybe I should bring you to my exam on Monday.”

Niall notices them then, but doesn't look embarrassed, just keeps smiling as he looks to Harry for an introduction.

“This is Zayn, my roommate,” Harry says. He motions vaguely behind him. “And you know Liam.”

He nods at Liam before holding his hand out for Zayn to shake. “Nice to finally meet you, I've heard a lot about you.”

Harry can tell Zayn's trying to hold back a smirk. “Likewise,” he says.

“That was a great game, mate,” Liam says. “Impressive goal too.”

“Thanks,” Niall says, running a hand through his already messy, sweaty hair. Harry wonders if he could pick up his camera and take a photo without anyone noticing. He does anyway.

“So, Hazza, have you told Niall about your project?” Zayn asks, and Harry glares at him, knowing exactly what he's trying to do.

“Yes,” he mutters.

“Have you told him what it's about?” Zayn continues, looking expectantly at Harry.

“No,” he says sharply, dropping his voice and tugging at Zayn's arm so they take a few steps back, Liam being courteous enough to walk over to Niall so him and Zayn won't be overheard. “Because I still don't know what it's going to be about.”

“But you told me earlier you did!” Zayn says.

“I said maybe!” Harry says, trying to keep his voice hushed.

“Am I interrupting something?” a voice suddenly asks, and Harry turns to see Louis, who's looking between the two groups. It must look weird, Harry thinks.

“Not at all,” Zayn is the first to say, looking Louis up and down. “Who are you?”

“I'm Louis, captain of the football team,” he says and Liam takes the opportunity to also congratulate him on the game, “and I just came over here to invite Harry out for drinks with the team to celebrate.”

“What?” Niall and Harry say in unison. “I thought that was a team only thing?” Niall finishes, when Harry's too stunned by the offer to speak.

Louis shrugs. “It was, but I know you're either gonna ditch us for Harry here or you're gonna spend the entire time talking about him, so -”

“I would not,” Niall says indignantly.

Louis and Zayn both laugh and Liam just looks utterly confused, like he's not apart of the inside joke.

“You're a terrible liar, Nialler,” Louis says.

“Sounds like someone I know,” Zayn says under his breath, leaning closer to Harry.

Luckily Harry doesn't have to dignify that with a response because Louis asks, “So, what do you say, Harry? You in?”

“Um,” Harry mumbles, looking from Louis to Zayn to Liam and back to Niall, who's looking at him hopefully.

“Your friends can come too,” Louis adds, clearly sensing Harry's hesitation. It's not that he  _ doesn't _ want to go, but he feels like he should honor the fact that it's a team only celebration, but he was invited and he'd hate to turn it down. Zayn and Liam share a look, but they don't decline the offer, and it would be nice to have someone there that he knows other than Niall, so he agrees.

“Great!” Louis beams. “I'll see you all in a bit.”

Niall claps his hands together and says, “Alright, just let me go get changed and then we can go.” There's a collective nod from the rest of them and Niall smiles at Liam and Zayn before he turns to Harry. He's still smiling, but it changes just the slightest to something a bit more excited, like he's glad that Harry's tagging along, and Harry is too.

-

It's an off-campus bar, but you wouldn't be able to guess since it's mainly filled with students. Some of them Harry recognizes as the rest of the football team and some of the spectators from the game, all talking loudly enough that Harry can hear Niall's name repeated a few times. They must be talking about his game-winning goal, but Harry doesn't blame them, it was pretty impressive.

“I thought this was a team only thing?” Liam asks over the din of the pub.

“It is, but this is the only bar within walking distance, and it's not like we can rent it out. Believe me, Louis’ tried,” Niall explains. “Don't worry, no one usually bothers us.”

“I wasn't worried, I just… didn't expect it to be so crowded,” Liam says, but shrugs it off when Niall leads them back to a booth near the rest of the team.

If they weren't dating, Harry would curse Zayn and Liam for sitting on the same side of the booth. Not that he doesn't want to sit next to Niall, but he already feels nervous and out of place and he feels like Niall might only amplify his nerves that are already on edge. He shouldn't be nervous, he tells himself, but there's still something about Niall that makes his heart race.

Niall introduces them to everyone, and Harry can feel his cheeks burning red when all eyes turn to him. He holds his hand up in a wave, because he's not really sure what else to do, but none of them seem to pay him much attention after that, too busy basking in their celebration to really care about the newcomers.

“You want anything, Hazza?” Zayn asks, standing up and pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the bar.

“Yeah, just a beer,” Harry says.

“What about you, Niall?” Zayn asks, waving off his protests that he's the guest and he doesn't have to get the drinks.

“Same as Harry,” he says, and Zayn disappears over to the bar, waving down the bartender. A few seconds of awkward silence pass before Liam also rises from the booth, muttering something about helping Zayn with the drinks.

Harry's not sure if he's thankful or if he wants to tell Liam to come back, but when he looks at Niall and sees him smiling softly, he relaxes a bit. He thinks about the kiss Niall gave him after the game and how he'd like to do it again, properly this time, when they're both prepared for it, but Niall speaks instead.

“Hazza, huh?”

Harry laughs a bit nervously as he scratches at his jaw. “Yeah, Zayn gave me that nickname in primary school and I've always hated it, but he likes it so I've just learned to accept it.”

“Really? I quite like it,” Niall says.

“Well, I think I like it better when you say it.” Harry pauses and then adds, “ _ Nialler _ .”

They share a secretive smile as Zayn and Liam come back with their beers and passes two of them over to Harry and Niall. Harry takes a drink of his, hoping to steady his rapid heartbeat. Suddenly the booth feels smaller with all four of them and Niall feels much closer. Harry wonders if they were always sitting this close.

Harry takes another sip of his beer and listens as Zayn begins questioning Niall about his major and where he's from, all these details that Harry already knows and refused to tell Zayn. Harry's just thankful he doesn't ask any embarrassing questions or asks anything that involves Harry, and he has to admit, it is nice to see them finally getting to know each other.

Then the conversation turns to Zayn, answering the same questions he asked Niall. He tells Niall how he's from Bradford, has three sisters, how he met Harry in primary school and is now majoring in art with a minor in English. Liam's just as quiet as Harry is, but Harry can see the wistful look on his face as Zayn tells the story of how he and Liam met. Harry kind of zones out after that, having heard all of this already, but he's suddenly brought back into focus when a hand wraps around his leg, just above his knee.

It startles him a bit, and Harry's just glad he hadn't taken a sip of his beer because he knows he would've choked on it. He tries to subtly glance sideways at Niall, who's got his chin on his hand that's resting on the table, still listening to Zayn ramble on about something, seemingly unfazed by the action, but Harry's sure he can see a small quirk to the corner of his mouth.

Harry takes another sip of his beer anyway, wondering if he's imagining all of this, but he knows he's not when Niall's hand slides the tiniest bit further up his thigh, and this time Harry really does choke on his beer. He coughs into his fist, and the conversation around the table stops as they all look to Harry with matching concerned expressions.

“You okay?” Niall asks, but he doesn't remove his hand.

“Yeah,” he lies, catching Niall's eye, and there's a gleam there like he's enjoying watching Harry squirm. Harry might be enjoying it too if Zayn and Liam weren't sitting across from them. But maybe Harry's the one making it weird because he's sure Liam is doing the same thing, but they're dating and Harry and Niall… well, he doesn't know what they are, but there's a time and place to put a label on it and it's not here.

Once Harry's done coughing and has repeated “I'm fine” at least five times, they revert back to whatever they were talking about before and Harry really tries to listen this time, hoping to ignore how warm Niall's hand feels on his leg.

After a while he stops freaking out about it and starts to enjoy the feeling because Niall seems to have no intention of moving his hand, not that Harry minds. But then Niall  _ does _ move his hand, higher still, his fingers curling into Harry's upper thigh. Harry tries to remain still so he can keep any and all attention away from him, but Niall seems to have other plans and Harry's afraid of what'll happen if he lets Niall's hand go any further.

Harry reaches for his beer and drains it.

“Do you want another one?” Zayn asks, pointing to Harry's now empty glass.

“Um, sure,” Harry says, hoping Zayn doesn't notice how constricted his voice sounds.

Zayn's gets up and orders them another round, but Liam doesn't go with him this time and Harry doesn't know what to make of that. Maybe he didn't feel comfortable being left alone at the table before and now he does; there's a hundred possibilities but Harry can't seem to focus on anything other than the squeeze of Niall's hand around his thigh.

Zayn brings their beers back a minute later, Harry immediately downing most of his because his mouth suddenly feels very dry. Just as he sets his glass back down on the table, Niall begins drumming his fingers on the inside of Harry's thigh and if he were gripping his glass any tighter it would surely shatter. Niall must be trying to rile him up, and it's definitely working.

It feels like they're sat there for an hour, Zayn telling a story or two before Liam finally begins to talk, and all the while, Niall's hand still has not moved. He steals a few glances at Harry, smirking subtly as he taps the seam of Harry's jeans. At least Zayn's gotten them another round of beers, and Harry can finally start to feel a buzzing in his veins because he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

The question seems to be answered for him when there's a lull in the conversation and Zayn announces that they should probably get going. Niall tells them that they don't have to, but doesn't press it any further when they both stand from the booth.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Niall,” Zayn says.

“You too,” Niall says, raising the hand that's not on Harry's leg to wave. “And I'll see you in class on Monday, Liam.” Liam nods with a smile.

“I'll see you two later,” Zayn says with a wink at Harry, who glares in return.

“Well, looks like it's just us now,” Niall says once Zayn and Liam have left the bar.

“Yeah,” Harry says because that's the only word that doesn't get caught in his throat. It's not what he wanted to say either, but he doesn't get the chance because then Niall's scooting closer and brushes the hair away from Harry's ear as he leans in.

His breath is hot against Harry's ear as he asks, “Wanna go back to mine?”

“Yes,” he breathes, the air getting caught in his throat as Niall's hand moves dangerously close to his crotch. Harry braces himself for what might happen next, but then Niall's hand grabs his and he's pulling him out the door.

-

It's a bit of a chilly walk back, but Harry keeps close to Niall, absorbing his body heat as Niall keeps their fingers intertwined. When they finally make it back to Niall's room, Harry’s cheeks sting as the warm air hits his cold face, and he barely has time to take off his jacket before Niall closes the door, pressing Harry up against it as he kisses him.

“I've been wanting to do that all night,” Niall whispers when he pulls away after a long moment. Harry's lightheaded and he's not sure if it's from the alcohol or from the kiss.

“They why didn't you?” Harry asks when his brain finally catches up.

Niall's hands snake around Harry's waist. “Because I wanted to make a good impression,” he says, pulling Harry closer. “But we're alone now, and I'd very much like to kiss you.”

The corners of Harry's mouth lift slightly. “Then I won't stop you.”

Niall kisses him again, and it starts off slow, but the urgency grows the closer they get to the bed. The back of Harry's knees hit the bed and they both topple over onto the mattress, and Harry doesn't know how, but Niall manages to keep their lips connected.

One of his hands finds its way into Harry's hair, tilting his head up to deepen the kiss. Niall's tongue is warm and wet against his, and Harry can taste the beer he was drinking earlier. Niall's fingers trail down Harry's chest before they stop, skimming over Harry's belt.

“Was this your plan all along?” Harry asks, his hand on Niall's chest as they both breathe heavily.

“What?” Niall asks, even though there's an obvious smirk on his face.

“To get me into bed. I assume that's why your hand was on my leg all night.”

“Maybe,” Niall says, grinning devilishly as he leans down to kiss Harry again. His lips move down to Harry's neck while his fingers slide under Harry's shirt, rucking it up his chest and Harry helps him take it off. “I just thought that I should properly thank you for helping me win two games.”

“Me?” Harry asks curiously. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“Of course you did,” Niall says, placing a kiss to the center of Harry’s sternum before lifting himself back up until he’s face to face with Harry. “I told you, you’re my good luck charm.”

“Hmm, I dn’t know about that,” Harry says, trailing a finger up and down Niall’s side, “it looks I’m the one who’s gonna get lucky tonight.”

Niall huffs out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, ducking down to connect their lips once again. The urgency is back, Niall unbuckling Harry’s belt with nimble fingers and pushing his jeans past his hips as he kisses his way back down Harry’s body. Harry kicks them off his ankles, and he hears the thunk of his belt as it hits the floor.

Niall kisses down Harry’s happy trail, something warm igniting under Harry’s skin beneath each patch of skin that Niall’s lips touch that is definitely not from the alcohol. Niall’s thumbs hook into his boxers and drags them down Harry’s legs, and Harry can feel himself growing impatient, almost painfully hard at the thought of Niall’s mouth around him. A whine gets caught in the back of his throat.

Niall must sense his impatience because he finally wraps a hand around Harry’s aching cock, jerking him slowly. Harry’s head tips back as his hips arch up into Niall's fist, reveling in his touch, feeling the rough callouses on his hand as it works over Harry's length. But as amazing as it feels, he needs more.

“Niall,” Harry breathes, and Niall must know what he wants because Harry can feel him repositioning himself between Harry's legs and then he's wrapping his lips around the head of Harry's cock as Harry lets out a less-than-quiet moan. “Fuck.”

One of his hands finds its way into Niall's hair as Niall sinks further down on his dick, enveloping it in the warmth of his mouth. He swirls his tongue expertly around the head that it makes Harry's back arch, throwing his head back as another moan escapes his throat.

Harry can't seem to focus on much more than Niall's mouth and the way Niall holds his hips down as he opens up his throat for Harry's cock. Harry has to bite back a moan because he's sure Niall doesn't want him to disturb his neighbors, but at the same time Harry wants them to hear how good Niall is making him feel.

That's when he chances a glance down at Niall who's looking right back at him with a look of pure lust behind his darkened eyes that Harry's never seen before. He's also still fully clothed, but for some weird reason Harry kind of likes it, being exposed while Niall's covered up; it nearly pushes him over the edge.

“I'm close,” Harry warns, and Niall squeezes his hip in acknowledgement before he hollows his cheeks, and begins bobbing his head as he presses his tongue flat against the underside of Harry's cock. His stomach twists and it's like a wave crashes over him as he comes.

Niall remains still for a few moments and it takes just as long for Harry to come back to himself, still breathing hard as he lifts himself onto his elbows. “Let me,” he says, reaching for Niall's hand when he sees it moving rapidly between his legs. But Niall doesn't move, just keeps his forehead pillowed on his forearm as his arm continues to move. A second later, his body shudders and Harry feels a warm splash of come hit his thigh.

“Don't worry about me, tonight was all about you,” Niall says when he finally lifts his head back up, kissing Harry's cheek.

Harry collapses back against the mattress and he can feel most of the energy leave his body as he comes down from his high. “I should probably go,” he says, even though his eyelids suddenly feel very heavy and he can't bring himself to move.

“Don't be ridiculous, you can just stay here,” Niall says, pulling the duvet over Harry after he's cleaned him off with a flannel. “You look like you're about to pass out anyway.” He chuckles softly. “Harry?” he asks when Harry doesn't respond, but all he hears is a snore.

-

Harry wakes up to a muffled buzzing, and at first he tries to ignore it, thinking it might be from the alcohol he drank last night, but then he realizes it's coming from his jeans that are still lying on the floor. He groans, curling further into the body next to him.

Niall's still asleep, his hand draped loosely over Harry's waist. It'd be so easy to fall back asleep since Harry doesn't have class today, and he wouldn't mind spending the day here with Niall, but it's not off to a great start because his phone won't stop fucking buzzing.

No one usually texts him this early, so he thinks it must be an emergency of some kind so he he slowly, and begrudgingly, detaches himself from Niall so he can lean over the edge of the bed to reach inside the pocket of his jeans. When he looks at the screen he sees five messages and he almost expects them to be from his mum, but they're from Zayn.

_ hey u ok? _

_ where r u? _

_ r u w/ niall? _

_ harry? _

_ i’ll take ur silence as a yes _

Harry debates about whether or not to respond, but then he glances back at Niall, still sound asleep, and he decides it can wait. Zayn already guessed where he was anyway, so he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he's about to crawl back under the duvet when he spots his camera sitting on Niall's desk.

He reaches for it instinctively and snaps a quick photo of Niall's sleeping figure, his face lax and his hair tousled where it rests on the pillow. Something tugs at Harry's heart, but he doesn't put much thought into it, just sets his camera back down and lays next to Niall, pressing his back to Niall's chest. Niall's hand winds around his waist again, coming to rest on his stomach, and Harry smiles to himself as he lets sleep overtake him once more.

-

As it turns out, Niall has to work, but that's not going to stop Harry from paying him a visit since he doesn't need to come up with an excuse to seem him anymore. So he steps into the library with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies tucked under his arm. His heart's already racing, but it beats a little faster when he sees Niall leaning over his textbook, wearing those glasses again.

Harry makes his way over, setting the plate down next to Niall's book, drawing his attention to Harry. “I thought those were fake?” he muses, motioning to Niall's glasses.

“They are,” Niall confirms.

“Then why do I only see you wearing them when you're reading?”

Niall sighs dramatically. “You caught me, I was trying to look smarter so I could fit in.” He tries to keep a straight face, but they both burst into quiet giggles.

“Well, you do look very handsome,” Harry says, and Niall just grins smugly like he already knows but appreciates the compliment nonetheless.

They hold eye contact for a long moment, and for the first time Harry doesn't feel the need to look away. He can see the way Niall's eyes soften when he looks up at him, and Harry can feel that tugging at his heart again. But before he can question it, Niall returns his gaze to the cookies.

“What are these?”

Harry could easily make a dumb joke, but decides to refrain. “They're for you,” he says before leaning over the counter to whisper in Niall's ear. “I thought maybe you'd like to have something else of mine in your mouth.”

Niall still looks smug, and Harry can see a retort forming on his lips, but they just curl up into a smile. “I didn't know you baked,” he says instead.

“Since I was five,” Harry says. “My parents own a bakery.”

“Really?” Niall asks, tilting his head curiously. “You never told me that.”

Harry shrugs. “Because it usually ends with me baking free desserts, and I used to love baking in my free time, but it kind of took the fun out of it, so I just stopped telling people.”

Niall nods like he get is it, and Harry's not sure how, but he doesn't question it. “Thank you for the cookies. And for the record, I never would've made you bake anything for me.”

“I don't know,” Harry says slowly, his hip leaning against the desk as a smirk tugs at his lips. “You seem like a guy who has a sweet tooth.”

“I picked you, didn't I?”

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you calling me sweet?”

Niall nods and Harry know it's probably not a good time to do it, but he can't resist, so he leans across the desk and kisses Niall. It's only a quick peck on the lips, but Harry can hear someone clear their throat and when he looks over his shoulder he can see one of the librarians giving them a reprimanding glare over the rim of her glasses perched on her nose.

“Right, well, I'll see you later?” Niall says, straightening up in his chair, trying to look more professional, his eyes glancing over to librarian. Harry's sure she's still watching them.

“Yeah,” Harry says, and even though he wants to kiss Niall again, he settles for a wave because he doesn't want to be responsible for getting Niall in trouble at work, if he hasn't already. He turns around to leave, but he doesn't make it very far before he hears Niall's voice again.

“Wait,” he says, and Harry turns his head to face Niall. “Louis’ throwing a party on Saturday, and he said I could invite you, if you wanted to go?”

Harry looks at him curiously. “You're not just asking me so I can bake cookies for the party, are you?”

Niall laughs as he shakes his head. “No, I'm asking because I want you be there.”

Harry smiles. “Then I wouldn't miss it.”

-

They had agreed to meet at Louis’ house (the one Niall told him he shares with his girlfriend, Danielle, his mate, Stan, and two other guys from the football team) at eight, so when Harry answers a knock on the door thirty minutes early, only half dressed, to see Niall standing in his doorway, he's a bit surprised.

“What are you doing here? I thought we were gonna meet at Louis’?” Harry asks, shocked, but lets Niall in anyway. He's wearing a crisp blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, jeans and those glasses again. Harry swallows thickly. He looks good - really good.

“We were, but I decided to be a gentleman and walk you there,” Niall replies, finally taking in Harry's appearance, his eyes raking over Harry's naked chest. “Am I early?”

“A bit,” Harry says honestly, but it's not like he's going to complain because he just gets to spend more time with Niall. “I was just trying to figure out what shirt to wear.” He holds up the shirts in his hands and Niall pinches his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he glances between them. He reaches for the purple silk one in Harry's left hand and holds it up in front of Harry.

“This one,” he says simply. It feels a bit fancy for a party and he kind of wants to ask why he chose that one, but Niall doesn't give a reason so Harry doesn't think he really needs to. He puts on the shirt, leaves a few buttons unbuttoned and looks to Niall for approval. Niall appraises him, glancing appreciatively down Harry's body before he nods. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, following Niall out the door.

Louis’ place isn't that far away from campus, but they've still got plenty of time to get there and it's one of the first nights in a while where Harry doesn't feel like his toes are going to freeze off. Harry keeps close to Niall anyway, his arm brushing up against Niall's every now and then, but Niall doesn't shy away. They're about halfway to Louis’ when Harry feels a hand slip into his.

He glances sideways at Niall who just smiles, and there's a softness behind his eyes that Harry's yet to see. Niall's fingers intertwine with his, his hand feeling warm where Niall gently squeezes his palm. Harry doesn't say anything because he's not sure  _ what _ to say, but there might not be a need to say anything at all - the endearing look on Niall's face seems to convey what neither of them say out loud.

When they approach the house, Harry can already hear the music from inside, and it only intensifies when they step inside. Harry can't quite make out what or who is playing, all he can hear is the thrumming bass beat through all the voices talking over each other.

There's the distinct smell of alcohol in the air, and Harry's pretty sure he can smell weed coming from upstairs. Harry doesn't think he's ever felt more out of place in his life; it's the first party Harry's been to in his three years at university, and it's a lot to take in since his only frame of reference is what he's seen in movies.

He must not be moving because then he feels a tug on his hand. He looks at Niall who nods his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“Beer?” he asks, and Harry nods, if only to give himself something to do so he doesn’t follow Niall around like a lost puppy.

Niall tugs him along, their fingers still interlocked, as they weave their way through the bodies before they find themselves in the kitchen, where it's much less crowded. Niall finally lets go of his hand, and Harry knows it's only so he can pull the beers out of the fridge, but he still has to hide the frown on his face.

Niall brandishes two beers, handing one of the opened bottles to Harry, who immediately takes a calming sip. He stares at Niall over the lip of his bottle, and Niall offers him a warm smile as he leans against the counter, his head tilted to the side as he studies Harry, and Harry wonders what he's thinking about, if it's the same as him - that he wouldn't want to be here with anyone else.

It isn't long before someone approaches Niall, and he looks familiar, Harry thinks, he might've seen him on the football team. He's proved right and Niall introduces them, smiling contentedly as he watches them shake hands.

It seems to set off a chain reaction after that and Harry feels like he shakes hands with everyone in the house. He greets them all with a friendly smile, hoping to mask his nerves because he wants to make a good first impression on Niall's friends and teammates. Harry keeps close to Niall and he must be able to sense his nervousness because Harry feels a hand settle on the small of his back, and it helps ground him a bit.

They wander out of the kitchen and roam around the house, Harry letting Niall lead the way, and they end up in the living room where a game of beer pong has been set up. There's a decent-sized group surrounding the table, but Harry and Niall find an empty spot behind Louis, who is currently winning against someone that Niall points out as Stan.

Louis sinks the ping pong ball into Stan’s last remaining cup, but he doesn't seem too bothered by the loss, just chugs the contents of the cup and raises it in salute to Louis. He turns around, and when he comes face to face with Niall, he shouts, “Nialler!” and slings an arm around his shoulder.

“What do you say? Fancy a game of beer pong?” Louis asks loudly, even though Niall's right next to him.

Niall snorts. “Only if you want to lose.”

Louis opens his mouth like he's about to reply, but then he seems to think about it and says, “Hmm, maybe later. What about you?”

When Harry looks over at Louis, he's looking right back at him expectantly with his eyebrows raised. His eyes widen and his mouth drops slightly in surprise, because he's never played beer pong before and he'd be terrible at it, but that's probably why Louis’ asking - he's an easy opponent.

“No,” Niall says firmly, standing in front of Harry like he's trying to protect him. “I'll play instead.”

Louis considers him for a moment and then he nods. “Alright, but Harry has to drink for you.”

“No,” Niall says again at the same time Harry says, “Okay.” Niall turns around to face Harry, looking shocked and taken aback. “You don't have to,” he assures him. “Louis never plays fair and I wouldn't want you -”

“Don't worry about me, it's just beer pong,” Harry says, voice gentle as he cuts over him. Niall doesn't seem convinced so Harry kisses him on the cheek. “I have faith in you, I know you're going to win.” Niall smiles at him and he leans in to leave a chaste kiss on Harry's lips.

“Oi, less kissing more drinking!” Louis says, bouncing the ping pong ball on the table impatiently. Niall takes his place at the other side of the table and stares at Louis. “Ready, Nialler? I'm feeling pretty lucky, I haven't lost a game all night.”

“Well, that's about to change,” Niall says, motioning for Louis to pass him the ping pong ball. He does, and Niall wastes no time in taking his first shot, the ball easily landing in the middle cup. Louis curses at him and Harry grins from where he's stood behind Niall, feeling confident that he could walk away from this relatively sober.

He does end up drinking two of the beers, though, so he's got a slight buzz going by the time Niall sinks the ball into Louis’ final cup, who curses Niall again and himself as he downs the beer. Niall waves off Louis’ pleads to have a rematch and leads Harry out of the room.

Harry can't seem to stop grinning because Niall stepped in to play for him and won, and even though Harry had every confidence in Niall that he would win, his heart still skips a beat at Niall's chivalry. They pass an empty hallway, and Harry stops, just as Niall keeps moving, and tugs him back into the corridor, grabbing the front of his shirt and reeling him in for a kiss.

Niall's a bit surprised, but melts into him nonetheless. His hands settle on Harry's hips as his tongue swipes at Niall's bottom lip. Harry's mind goes fuzzy when Niall's tongue slips pass the seam of his lips and he can't seem to focus on anything else other than the warmth of Niall's tongue against his and the press of Niall's thumbs at his hip bones.

“What was that for?” Niall asks when they finally pull apart.

“For winning,” Harry says simply.

“Well, you are my good luck charm after all,” Niall says, a slight upturn to his mouth and Harry can't resist kissing him again. He feels an overwhelming sense of affection for Niall because he volunteered to play so Harry didn't have to. It may not be that big of a deal to Niall, but it is to Harry, and all he wants to do now is show him how grateful he is. He grabs Niall's hand and drags him farther down the hallway. “Where are we going?”

Harry doesn't answer him immediately, just opens the first door they come to, which thankfully is a bathroom, and pulls Niall inside, locking the door behind him. Some sort of realization seems to cross Niall's face, but he still looks slightly confused until Harry drops to his knees and begins undoing Niall's belt. “To thank you properly.”

“For what?” Niall asks, his voice hoarse, and his breath sounding ragged as Harry pulls his jeans down to his knees and frees his hardening cock from the confines of his boxers.

“For being you,” Harry replies, and Niall opens his mouth like he's about to say something else, but it dissolves into a moan as Harry takes him into his mouth.

His knees nearly give way, but Harry keeps him stable with a firm grip on his hips as he sucks him down slowly. He can tell Niall's trying to hold back from thrusting into his mouth, so he speeds up his pace a bit, urged on by all the noises Niall's making.

“Harry,” Niall says in between moans, and Harry can't help but groan around the cock in his mouth because he sounds wrecked already. He must be close, Harry thinks, so he just focuses on making Niall feel as good as Niall made him feel the other night.

Harry stares up at him lasciviously under his eyelashes, expecting Niall to be watching him, but he's not. His eyes are closed and his head’s tipped back, breathing heavily as he grips the counter so tight his knuckles turn white. If he could smirk he would, because he's been told many times how good his mouth is and he knows Niall isn't going to last long.

Harry sinks farther onto Niall's cock and opens up his throat to take him in. He hears Niall curse above him, and suddenly there's a hand gripping his hair like a warning.

“I'm close,” Niall says and Harry squeezes his hip in acknowledgement. He hollows his cheeks and sucks until he feels a tug at his hair, and he pulls back just as he feels the first drop of come hit his tongue, swallowing all that Niall gives him.

Once Harry's pulled off, Niall's dragging him up for a kiss, tasting himself on Harry's tongue, and there's something dirty about it that Harry loves. Niall sucks on Harry's tongue as he unzips Harry's jeans, his fingers instantly curling around Harry's cock. He tugs him off fast and it's a little messy and the bathroom is beginning to feel cramped and hot, but he's with Niall and that's all that matters.

After they've cleaned themselves up and tucked themselves back into their pants, Niall opens the door to step back out into the hallway but is stopped when he bumps into Louis. He smiles and claps Niall on the shoulder, friendly as ever, as if Niall hadn't just beaten him at beer pong twenty minutes ago.

“Hey, Nialler,” he says, but before Niall can give any sort of response, he spots Harry over his shoulder and he smirks knowingly. “Enjoying the party?”

Niall doesn't answer, just grabs Harry's hand and pushes past Louis while Harry turns beet red.

-

Harry knows he probably should study, because his grades are important to him and he doesn't want to fall behind, but he also knows that he wouldn't be able to focus anyway when all he can think about is Niall.

He goes to the library anyway, a plate of muffins cradled under his arm this time. He spent his allotted studying time baking instead because he still felt restless and baking is one of the few things that relaxes him. However, it didn't help him take his mind off of Niall. If anything, it just made him want to see him even more, to see the smile on his face when Harry surprised him with a warm plate of muffins.

Harry pushes open the door to the library and takes a steeling breath. He doesn't want to disrupt Niall at work, but he can't wait five hours for Niall's shift to end, and he tells himself he'll be quick.

Niall's sitting behind his desk, as usual, sans glasses and staring down at a book resting on his lap. Harry's only halfway towards him when his eyes suddenly shoot up, like he could sense Harry had just walked in. He smiles softly, closing his book and setting it on the desk as Harry approaches. He eyes the muffins under Harry's arm.

“Are those for me?” he questions.

“Maybe,” Harry says even though he's sliding the plate over to Niall.

“First the cookies and now the muffins,” Niall says, eyeing him curiously as he leans in and lowers his voice. “Is this how you repay all your sexual favors?”

“Nope, just for you,” Harry says, and he smiles to let Niall knows he's only half joking. “And I was bored.”

“So you bake when you're bored?” Niall asks.

Harry gives a noncommittal shrug. “Sometimes. And I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the party.”

“Did you have fun?”

“I had fun with you,” Harry says, and Niall gives him a look like he's waiting for a serious response, but Harry is being completely serious. Parties have never really been his thing, and he knows he would've left much sooner if it wasn't for Niall.

“I had fun with you too,” Niall says honestly, smiling softly at Harry. His fingers are drumming on the desk, like he wants to reach out and touch Harry, but refrains. Harry hopes it's not because he got Niall in trouble the last time he was here. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

Harry shrugs, his fingers inching closer to Niall's. “Don't know yet. I should probably study but I’d rather spend the day with you.”

“Well, we  _ are _ in a library,” Niall states. “And people tend to study in a library.”

“True,” Harry says. “But how am I supposed to concentrate when there's this cute boy who works here and all I can think about is kissing him?”

“Just cute, huh?” Niall says, arching a brow. Harry gives a casual shrug, but he's still smiling. “I think he'd go tell you to study and if you finish, there might be something in it for you later.”

This time, it's Harry who arches his eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Niall nods, a slight upturn to his mouth, and Harry wants nothing more than to kiss that smirk right off his face. He knows he shouldn't, but he ignores every instinct in his body telling him not to and finds himself leaning forward. He's about an inch from Niall's face when he hears someone clearing their throat.

Harry doesn't have to look to know who it is, and he looks a bit sheepish as he settles for a quick kiss to Niall's cheek and throws an apologetic look over his shoulder at the librarian. She looks exasperated and Harry just hopes that he doesn't get thrown out.

“So, uh, thanks for the muffins,” Niall says, his cheeks not nearly as pink as Harry's feel.

“No problem,” Harry says. “I'll see you later?” He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but Niall nods anyway.

-

They’re in Harry’s dorm room, laying on Harry’s bed, their shoulders and thighs touching as they watch some footie match on TV. It’s warm and comforting, Harry thinks, laying this close to Niall, but his mind is still reeling from earlier today. He keeps seeing the annoyed look on the librarian’s face every time he closes his eyes, and he wouldn’t worry about it so much if it had only happened that one time, but it’s happened twice now, and Harry keeps thinking about the fact that he might’ve put Niall’s job in jeopardy.

“Hey,” Harry prompts, waiting for Niall to turn to look at him before he asks, “I didn’t get you in trouble today, did I?”

To Harry’s surprise, Niall laughs. “With Barbara? No, of course not,” he says, smoothing out the crease between Harry’s eyebrows with his thumb. “She just doesn’t want any of us to get distracted while we’re working, and I guess she thought you were a distraction.”

“Am I?” Harry asks.

“Are you what?”

“A distraction,” Harry clarifies.

Niall smirks. “Only a little bit.”

“Only a little bit?” Harry repeats, sitting up so he can give Niall a proper affronted look, which only causes Niall to laugh again.

“What about me? Am I distracting?” Niall asks, his fingers trailing up under Harry’s shirt, and Harry tries not to shiver at the touch.

“No,” Harry says, crossing his arms and flopping back down beside Niall as he trains his attention on the match in front of him.

“Hm,” Niall hums, turning his body so he’s facing Harry with his head propped on his hand. “I feel like you’re lying,” he says, slipping his hand back under Harry’s shirt so he can tease at one of his nipples. Harry’s breath hitches, but he tries to play it off.

“I’m not,” Harry says shakily, trying to seem unaffected by the touch, when he really wants to lean up into it. He tries to keep his breathing even, but he doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job at it.

“Are you sure?” Niall asks, his hand now trailing down Harry’s stomach so it can ghost over his zipper. “This isn’t distracting you at all?”

“Nope,” Harry says, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him. He can feel Niall smirking next to him, but he pulls his hand away anyway and turns back to watch the game. Harry chances a glance to the side, and even though Niall’s eyes are facing the TV, he seems far off, like he’s thinking. Harry ignores it until he feels Niall’s body turn the opposite way and reaches for one of the bananas Harry keeps on the table next to his bed. “What are you doing?”

“Having a snack,” Niall replies. He peels the banana, takes a bite and turns back to Harry as he chews. “Am I distracting you?” His tone is playful as he takes a slightly bigger bite of the banana this time, and Harry doesn’t think anything of it until the banana pokes the side of Niall’s cheek and Harry knows he’s doing it on purpose.

Harry narrows his eyes at Niall. “You're doing that on purpose,” he says out loud.

“Doing what?” Niall asks innocently, and Harry huffs, thinking that two can play that game. He's about to grab for a banana of his own, but the way Niall raises his eyebrow at him makes Harry think that that's what he wants. He's left staring at Niall because he's not sure what to do or how to react, and then he realizes that maybe he should do something that Niall doesn't expect.

He reaches for his camera at the end of his bed and snaps a quick photo before Niall realizes what he's doing. He grins to himself but Niall doesn't seem one bit bothered, just keeps eating his banana with a slightly amused expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” Niall asks.

“Taking a picture,” Harry says simply.

“Of me,” Niall states and Harry nods.

“Yes, I still have a project to finish and I need inspiration,” he says, because it’s the truth and he’s beginning to think that his project is going to somehow consist of Niall. He hasn’t admitted it out loud, and it doesn’t quite feel like an admission, but it’s the truth nonetheless and Niall can interpret it however he wants.

“So, I’m an inspiration, but not a distraction?” Niall asks, studying Harry’s face like he’s ready to catch him in a lie.

Harry keeps his face neutral and his eyes focused on Niall as he says, “Yes.”

The corner of Niall’s mouth quirks up again. “I still think you’re lying, but I reckon I quite like being an inspiration, especially yours,” he says, taking the camera out of Harry’s hands and placing it aside so he can curl a hand around Harry’s neck and pull him into a kiss. Harry tries to mumble out a response, but Niall shushes him by kissing him deeper, and Harry takes that as his cue to shut up and lets himself go boneless under Niall’s touch.

-

The next morning, Niall’s standing in front of Harry’s mirror, shirtless, as he fusses with his hair, trying to get it to stand up from his forehead the way he likes so he can go to class. Harry’s laying on his stomach, his chin resting on his crossed arms as he watches Niall’s fingers run through his hair, trying to push it up off his forehead, but eventually he huffs and just leaves it laying flat. Harry likes it better that way.

“You’re staring,” Niall mutters, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re making it very hard for me not to,” Harry says, his eyes roaming down Niall’s body. Niall visibly shivers, and Harry wonders if he can feel it.

“Then why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer,” Niall says, turning his head just enough so he can wink at Harry before he looks back at the mirror and fixes his hair a few more times. Harry’s about to laugh because that’s not the first time he’s heard that, but it is the first time that he might indulge the offer. He sits up and reaches for his camera and snaps a photo just as Niall’s putting his glasses on. Harry takes another just because. He doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough photos of Niall. “Did you actually take a picture of me?” Niall asks, turning to fully face Harry as he grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head.

“Yeah,” Harry admits, smiling to himself as Niall shakes his head at him.

“I gotta go to class, don’t take any pictures of my bum on my way out,” Niall warns, trying for a stern look, but it dissolves away into a grin as he walks over to Harry and kisses him soundly on the lips.

“I can’t promise that,” Harry says. He hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t even had the idea really, but now he kind of wants to just to see how Niall would react.

“Well, try,” Niall says, smiling softly as he places a quick kiss to Harry's forehead before he grabs his bag and disappears out the door.

-

After Niall's shift at work, Harry walks across campus to his dorm room with a six pack of beer and Scrabble tucked under his arm. It's more fun to play when you're slightly tipsy, a tradition his family stumbled upon the Christmas after Harry turned eighteen. He always wins too, as he likes to remind Gemma each time, but he hasn't played with his family in a while, so he figures Niall might want to give it a try.

He knocks on Niall's door, waits a few seconds, and when the door opens he sees Niall wearing a pair of joggers and a soft white t-shirt, looking a little tired behind his eyes, but he smiles when he notices Harry.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice sounded just as soft as the rest of him looks - his shirt, his hair, his eyes. Harry almost wants to abandon the game and cuddle him instead.

“Hey,” Harry echoes. “I brought beer and Scrabble.”

“Scrabble?” Niall asks, raising an eyebrow as he surveys the contents in Harry's arms.

“Yeah, figured we could get drunk and play,” Harry explains.

Niall blinks a few times before he shrugs and steps aside to let Harry in. “Alright.”

They crack open their beers and settle back on Niall's bed, idly watching whatever Niall's got playing on TV. Harry asks him about his day, and Niall tells him about how Barbara was surprised that Harry didn't come back, but when Niall gave her one of the muffins she said she wouldn't mind if he did as long as he brought more. Harry also tells Niall about his day, as uneventful as it was, how he took a shower after Niall left, went to class and came back and took a nap and now he's here.

Once they're halfway through their third beers and they're sitting on the floor on opposite sides of the Scrabble board, Harry begins to explain the rules of the game, which are just like the regular rules of Scrabble except if you throw up you lose. They're not nearly drunk enough for that, but it's happened before with Gemma, so it's now become a rule. Niall nods, but it seems like he’s only half-listening as he grabs for his tiles, so Harry stops trying to explain and does the same.

Niall goes first, glaring at Harry when he says, “Age before beauty.” His first word is ‘way’, earning him eighteen points, and Harry nods in approval; he’s picked a worthy opponent.

Harry keeps track of the score, even though Niall said he didn’t have to, but he always like to rub it in when he beat Gemma by fifty points. This time, however, Harry’s the one who’s losing. He didn’t come here to win, and he’s not a sore loser either, he’s just competitive and doesn’t like to lose.

Harry sighs; he’s got the worst tiles ever. They’re mostly vowels and he can’t really make any words out of them, and he’s pretty sure Niall has another blank tile that he can use against Harry. He sighs again, accepting defeat.

Niall smirks. “Giving up already?”

“No, I just don’t want to play anymore,” Harry says, sliding the game board out of the way so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer. Niall still looks smug.

“Alright, well, what  _ do _ you want to do?” Niall asks, leaning back on his hands as he waits for Harry’s answer, but Harry just crawls into Niall’s lap and kisses the smirk off his face, hoping that Niall’ll forget about winning when Harry licks past the seam of his lips. “I still won,” he says against Harry’s mouth.

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles, and Niall just grins as Harry kisses him again, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling Harry with him as his back hits the floor.

-

Harry doesn't know how he convinced Niall to watch  _ The Notebook _ , but somehow he did, and now they're cuddled up on Harry's bed, Harry's head resting on Niall's shoulder as they watch the movie. They're nearly at the end of the movie, and Niall hasn't moved much during the entirety of it, so Harry thinks he must've fallen asleep, but then he hears a sniffle.

Harry angles his head so he can look up at Niall, and Harry can see his eyes are a bit red around the edges and he's blinking rapidly like he's trying to stave off tears. Although Harry's tempted to tease, he can't when there's something tightening in his chest. He's torn between wanting to reach up and rub away the wetness under his eyes and wanting to watch the way Niall bites his lip when he notices Harry watching him.

Maybe he doesn't want Harry to acknowledge it, so Harry won't, but there's just something about this moment that Harry wants to remember, and his memory won't do it justice.

Hoping Niall won't notice his arm reaching behind him, Harry grabs his camera, sits up so he can fit Niall into the frame and takes a picture.

“Seriously, Harry?” Niall says, rubbing the heel of his hand against his right eye.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, even though he's not sorry at all. “You just look so cute when you cry.”

“I'm not crying,” Niall says defensively, sniffling as he wipes away the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes. “I just have allergies.”

Harry chuckles. “You're an even worse liar than I am.”

Niall shoves at him playfully, but at least he's smiling now. “What can I say? It's a good movie.”

Harry nods in agreement. “It is. I've always wanted to be kissed in the rain,” he muses, letting his mind wander to the image in his head of him standing in the rain, kissing the one he loves, and while it may be too early to say he loves Niall, he can picture the blurry image in his head having blond hair and a smile as bright as the sun.

“Yeah?” Niall asks, looking at Harry with a softness behind his eyes, like he's prompting Harry to go on, but he decides not to.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

“You know, Harry,” Niall starts, grabbing Harry's hand where it rests on his thigh, “I reckon I quite like you.”

Harry smiles, hoping his face doesn't betray the way his heart leaps in his chest. “I like you too,” he says softly. He leans over and pecks Niall on the lips, but before he can pull away, Niall’s hand curls around his neck and keeps him there. Harry goes with it, lets Niall kiss him slowly, and then he hears the distinct sound of a shutter click next to him. “Did you just take a picture of us?”

“Maybe.” Niall grins, bringing the camera in front of his face, but Harry takes it out of Niall’s hands before he can take another picture. He doesn’t like to be the subject of his photos, thinking there’s much more beauty in perspective, and normally he’d be tempted to delete it, but even though he hasn’t seen the photo of them kissing yet, Harry doesn’t think he’s going to delete it.

-

It’s Friday night, and Harry hadn’t really had any plans other than to study, but he'd been procrastinating all day and he still has no desire to do it, so when Niall mentions that there's an open mic night at the bar tonight, it doesn't take much convincing for Harry to agree.

It's steadily becoming warmer outside, so Harry doesn't have to wear as many layers, but there's still a chill that runs down Harry's spine when the wind blows, so he uses it as an excuse to stay close to Niall as they walk so he can leech off his warmth. He tangles their fingers together, just because he can, and Niall squeezes his fingers back.

Once they get inside the bar, Harry can see that most of the tables have been moved out of the way, leaving the center of the bar empty, like it's suddenly transformed into a concert venue for the night - which, technically, it has been, Harry supposes. He's always liked the smaller venues better; it's a bit more intimate, to be so close to the artist.

There's a few people standing in front of the stage they've set up, some are dispersed around the tables, while everyone else is at the bar ordering a drink. Niall tells Harry to save him a spot while he gets them some beers. Harry finds a table that's off to the side, but still close enough to the stage so they can see.

Niall comes back with their beers and places one in front of Harry who accepts it with a gracious smile. He sits down in the chair next to Harry and scoots it closer until Harry can feel Niall’s thigh brush against his. “Ever been to one of these?” Niall asks, his voice close to Harry’s ear even though it’s not that loud.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I went to a few when I first moved to the city, and my cousin’s in a band, so the whole family would go and support them every time they played.”

Niall smiles. “That’s nice. Is he any good?”

“If you like indie love songs, then yeah.”

“Ah, so right up your alley then?” Niall says, his lips twitching up into a smirk, and Harry shoves at his shoulder, but he’s grinning too.

Then the lights dim and all the chatter around them dies down as someone walks onto the stage - the owner of the bar, Harry thinks - and taps on the microphone twice before he speaks into it, thanking everyone for coming out tonight and to everyone who signed up to share their talent, but Harry doesn’t hear much of the rest of his speech, sipping at his beer as he waits for the first act to begin.

A single spotlight shines down on a girl with long blonde hair, who appears to be around Harry’s age, as she sits down on a stool in front of the microphone and rests a guitar in her lap. She gives a quick introduction of her and her song before she begins to sing. She’s got a beautiful voice and she seems comfortable in front of the crowd, like she’s done this a few times, and it shows, because she scans over the bar, engaging the crowd with her eyes. And she’s good; it’s the type of music Harry has on his phone and he’d definitely buy an album of hers.

The next singer is a guy, who also seems to be about Harry’s age, and Harry wonders if all the acts are going to be from the university. He’s just as good as the girl before him, but his nerves show a little more, his voice shaking on some parts, but Harry applauds him all the same.

Harry sips at his beer as the next few acts come and go, a few more soloists and even a band that gets the whole room dancing at one point. Niall’s quiet next to him, not looking at Harry or the stage, but down at his beer bottle, picking at the label with his nail. He looks like he’s nervous, but Harry can’t imagine why he would be, unless -

“Unfortunately, this is our last performer of the night,” the owner says, placing a guitar onto its stand next to the stool, “but he’s definitely worth the wait. Please welcome Niall Horan to the stage.”

Harry’s jaw drops as he turns to look at Niall, wondering if he heard that right, and he must have because Niall winks at him over his shoulder as he walks up on stage. To say Harry’s surprised would be an understatement, and he’s pretty sure his jaw is still hanging open because he’s still trying to process the fact that Niall’s on stage right now, about to perform, and he didn’t even mention it to Harry.

“Hello,” Niall greets into the mic, his voice soft, but it sounds loud in Harry’s ears as it reverberates against the walls. He picks up the guitar and settles it in his lap as he continues, “I, um, wrote this song for someone special who’s here tonight, and I hope he likes it.”

Harry’s tempted to close his eyes and just listen as Niall begins to strum the strings of the guitar, a soft melody filling the quiet room, and it finally sinks in that Harry’s about to hear Niall sing for the very first time. He's going to sing a song he wrote for someone special, and Harry's about to wonder who it is when Niall's eyes meet his across the room and  _ oh _ . He's the special someone.

“ _ I want to write you a song, one as beautiful as you are sweet _ ,” Niall sings, and Harry's breath instantly catches in his throat. He really wishes he had his camera right now so he could capture this moment and remember it forever. He listens closely to every lyric, every word Niall wrote down with Harry in mind, and he wonders when he started writing this, if he wrote it all in one night or if it was weeks in the making.

“ _ I wanna build you a boat, one that's as strong as you are free _ .”

It's mostly silent in the bar, save for Niall's song and Harry's heart beating rapidly against his chest. He can't believe he's listening to a song that's been written for him, about him, and he feels like he could cry at any moment - if he isn't already.

“ _ I want to write you a song, one to make your heart remember me _ .” Niall's voice slows down as he finishes the song and Harry's throat is tight and his face feels hot, just like it does right before he cries. He doesn't want to though, but he's not sure how much longer he can keep any semblance of composure when he keeps thinking about the fact that Niall wrote him a  _ song _ .

The crowd applauds and there's even a few whistles from a table full of girls near the front of the stage, but Niall only has eyes for Harry, and he smiles sheepishly at him as he steps off the stage and rejoins him at their table.

“So, what'd you think?” Niall asks, his cheeks pink as he awaits Harry's answer.

“You wrote that? For me?” Harry asks by way of a response and Niall barely has the chance to nod before Harry's grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him into a searing kiss, hoping it conveys every emotion that Harry's feeling. “I loved it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “You'll have to play it again for me sometime.”

“I can do that.” Niall smiles, and he just looks so genuinely  _ happy _ , it makes Harry's heart race and butterflies flutter in his stomach, and it feels like Harry's seeing him for the first time, that day in the courtyard. He wants to kiss him again, but not here, somewhere more private, more quiet.

“Can we go back to yours?” he asks, and Niall hums in assent, downing the last of his beer before he takes Harry's hand and leads him back outside.

Once they cross the threshold into Niall’s room, Harry doesn’t even wait for Niall to fully close the door before his lips latch onto his neck.

“I can’t believe you wrote me a fucking song,” Harry murmurs against Niall’s throat, his hands circling around his hips as he steers him over to the bed.

Niall chuckles softly as his back hits the mattress. “I’m glad you liked it,” he says, angling Harry’s face so he can kiss him properly, and Harry can feel his smile against his lips.

Harry doesn’t think he’s stopped smiling either since they left the bar, Niall’s soothing voice playing through his head as they walked home, and it makes Harry’s heart swell in his chest because no one has ever done anything as thoughtful as write him a song before. He’s more than appreciative, and he doesn’t know how he could ever repay Niall. “Fuck me,” he blurts.

Niall’s hands stop their movements from where they were skimming under Harry’s shirt, and when he looks back at Harry, he doesn’t look surprised or shocked, just curious. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Harry says, grinding down into Niall’s lap, hoping Niall can feel how he’s fattened up in his jeans.

“Okay,” Niall says, kissing Harry quickly before he removes his shirt and flips him over so he’s now lying on the bed. Niall makes quick work of Harry’s belt and slides his jeans down his legs before he asks, “How do you want it?”

“Like this,” Harry says, bending his knees so he can propel himself further up the bed until his head hits the pillow. Niall rifles around inside his bedside table until he retrieves a condom and a bottle of lube. He places them on the bed next to Harry, who's stomach flips in anticipation.

Niall stands up long enough so he can strip down, his shirt, jeans and boxers all hitting the floor. Harry follows suit, slipping his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers and shoves them down his legs until he can kick them off and add them to the pile of discarded clothes.

As Niall climbs back onto the bed and settles himself between Harry's legs, Harry suddenly feels shy under Niall's gaze, and he's not sure why, because it's not like this is the first time Niall's seen him naked, but it feels different this time, more intimate.

Niall runs a soothing hand up Harry's thigh before he grabs the lube, and it helps settle Harry's nerves a bit, but his heart rate picks up when he watches Niall drizzle some of the lube onto his fingers. “Ready?” he asks, and Harry gives a shaky but confident nod.

Harry gasps at the first cold touch of lube at his hole, a shiver running through his entire body as Niall circles his rim a few times before he finally presses it in. Harry groans at the sensation, Niall's fingers feeling much more rough and calloused than Harry's own.

Niall slowly works the finger in until Harry's moaning and begging for more, so he presses in a second finger along with the first. Two fingers quickly turn into three when Harry tells Niall it's okay, and Harry's growing more impatient by the second. As amazing as Niall's fingers feel, he needs more.

“Niall,” Harry breathes, and Niall must understand what he means because he slips his fingers out and reaches for the condom. Harry watches carefully as he rolls it over his cock and then slicks himself up. He places a pillow under Harry's hips before he steadies himself over Harry, and then looks to him for approval and slowly pushes in once it's given.

Harry's eyes flutter shut as a moan escapes him. He loves the stretch, the way his body opens up to accommodate Niall, and it feels amazing in every way possible.

“Christ, you're tight,” Niall grits out, and Harry whines in the back of his throat once Niall's bottomed out. “When's the last time you were fucked?”

“Too long,” Harry says, the last word ending on a gasp as the head of Niall's cock brushes against his prostate. It hasn't been  _ that _ long, but Harry forgot how good it felt to be with someone he cared for this much. It's different than getting off with some stranger in the loo, and there's some underlying emotion there that Harry's afraid to put a name to just yet.

It doesn't take long for Niall to build up a steady rhythm that has Harry writhing and moaning beneath him. He keeps making these slow, deep thrusts that cause his cock to rub tortuously against Harry's bundle of nerves, and Harry's close, he can feel it.

He reaches a hand between them, but before he can wrap his fingers around his leaking cock, Niall leans down to get better leverage so he can thrust even deeper. Harry pulls his hand away and wraps it around Niall's bicep instead, letting the friction of Niall's stomach bring him over the edge.

His back arches off the bed as he comes, and Niall works him through it, his thrusts becoming faster and erratic, and Harry can tell he's close too. “C’mon,” Harry urges. “Come in me.” That seems to be all it takes for Niall, because he rests his head in the crook of Harry's neck as he spills into the condom.

Niall lays there for a long moment, his dick softening inside Harry and his breath hot against his neck, but Harry doesn't miss the soft press of lips against his shoulder before Niall finally gets up. He wanders off into the bathroom, disposes of the condom and comes back with a flannel to clean Harry off.

“Budge up,” Niall says, patting at Harry's hip once Harry's stomach has been cleared of come. Harry groans in protest; he's comfortable where he is and doesn't want to move - not that he really could if he wanted to, his body feeling limp and relaxed. He manages to roll on his side, though, and Niall fits himself to Harry's back, one hand coming to rest on Harry's stomach as Niall places a gentle kiss to Harry's temple. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Harry says around a yawn. “I love you.” Harry's eyes snap open once he's realized what he's said, and he turns to face Niall when he feels Niall's hand tense against his stomach. “I-I mean -” Harry starts, but Niall cuts him off when he moves his hand to cradle Harry's cheek and kisses him slowly, a stark contrast to the way Harry's heart is beating.

“I love you, too,” Niall says softly, his thumb tracing the shape of Harry's cheekbone. “In case you couldn't tell.”

Harry's eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I don't just write a song for anyone,” Niall replies, a shadow of a smile crossing his face. It's dark in the room, the only source of light coming from the moon shining through the window, but Harry can still see the adoration behind his eyes. It may not have been the way Harry wanted to say he loved Niall, but he knows he means it.

-

Harry wakes up, or at least he thinks he does, he’s not sure. He’s still in that state right before he fully wakes up where it feels like he could still be dreaming. But he knows he’s not when he hears a voice that sounds strangely like Louis, and Harry slowly blinks his eyes open. It’s still dark around him, but there’s a soft orange glow illuminating the darkness and Harry realizes that the duvet’s covering his head.

“C’mon, mate,” Louis says, clapping his hands to try and get Niall to move, and Harry’s tempted to cover his ears because it’s much too early for this. “Get your lazy arse up and get dressed, we’re already late.”

“Late for what?” Niall croaks out, and Harry hates how the sounds shoots straight to his dick. He really doesn’t need to try and hide a semi from Louis.

“Football. Practice,” Louis says, enunciating each word like he’s waiting for it click inside Niall’s brain, and it must because Niall groans, like he’s finally caught on to what Louis’ been on about, and Harry can imagine him scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s going on?” Harry asks, sitting up next to Niall, who keeps the duvet covering his lower half as he runs a hand through his mussed-up hair. Niall doesn’t flinch, but Louis, however, yelps and Harry thinks it might’ve been better if he had remained hidden.

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, but then his mouth settles into a smirk when he realizes it’s Harry. It’s the exact same smirk he wore when he saw Niall and Harry walk out of the bathroom at the party, and Harry knows exactly what Louis’s thinking, because it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they’re both naked under the duvet. Harry can feel his cheeks turn red. “I’ll give you five minutes to get dressed, and then I’m coming back in whether you’ve got clothes on or not,” Louis says, pointing a stern finger at Niall before he promptly closes the door.

“What was that all about?” Harry asks, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. He wants nothing more than to curl back up under the duvet and fall back asleep, but it won’t be the same without Niall laying next to him.

“Louis just likes to be a dick sometimes,” Niall says, moving about his room in a flash, picking up the pieces of his uniform as he goes. “Sorry, he wouldn’t have done that if he knew you were here.” Harry just waves him off and watches as Niall hastily gets dressed. “You should come with us. We could always use the good luck.”

“It’s only practice,” Harry says.

“I know, but I like having you there.”

“Well, I'd love to, but I was gonna meet up with Zayn today. I haven’t seen him in a few days and I think he misses me.”

“Alright,” Niall concedes, but his face looks like he still wants to try to convince Harry to come. Harry would go, but he’s been spending most of his time with Niall anyway, and he doesn’t want Zayn to think he’s forgotten about him.

“I’ll be with you in spirit, though,” Harry says. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Niall says, smiling softly at Harry as he bends down in front of the bed to grab his shoes. He kisses Harry’s forehead when he stands back up, and then he disappears out the door when Louis threatens to drag him out if he’s not ready in ten seconds.

-

It doesn’t take Harry long to find Zayn, since he’s sitting on the bench that he and Harry normally sit at, and Harry's heart clenches inside his chest. He feels like a terrible friend for basically ditching his best friend for his new… boyfriend or whatever, and Harry really wants to make it up to Zayn. He just hopes he isn’t too mad at him.

“Hey,” Harry greets softly, shifting nervously on his feet.

Zayn raises his head from where he’s drawing what looks to be another picture of Liam in his notebook. “Hey,” he says. “Finally remembered me, did you?”

“I’m sorry, I can explain -” Harry starts, but Zayn’s unreadable face finally breaks with a laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Hazza,” Zayn says, patting the spot next to him and Harry takes it, feeling warm in Zayn’s embrace when he slings an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “I just missed you, is all.”

“Missed you, too,” Harry murmurs. “Sorry.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Niall’s a good guy and I can understand why you'd want to spend all your time with him. I’d probably date him too if I wasn't already with Liam.” He looks over his shoulder like he’s making sure no one’s heard them. “Don’t tell Liam I said that.”

Harry chuckles softly. “I won’t,” he says, holding a hand over his heart in promise. “I told him I loved him.”

“Who? Liam?”

Harry laughs again, smacking Zayn playfully on the shoulder. “No, Niall, you idiot.”

“Really?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow in interest.

“Yeah,” Harry says, averting his attention away from Zayn so he can fiddle with the camera that’s resting in his lap. “I didn’t mean to say it, I just like, blurted it out, but then he said it back.”

“Aw, my Hazza’s in love,” Zayn coos, much like his mum would if he was having this conversation with her. Although she’d just kiss his cheek, rather than pinch it like Zayn's currently doing. “Does this mean he’s your boyfriend now?”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno, maybe. When did you consider Liam your boyfriend?”

Zayn’s quiet for a moment while he hums in thought. “Probably when I realized that I wanted to spend everyday with him and I couldn’t go more than five minutes without telling him how much I loved him.”

Harry nods as he turns on his camera and begins flipping through the pictures. They’re all of Niall, his blond hair and blue eyes taking up each frame, like a frozen moment in time, and Harry remembers taking each one. It makes Harry’s chest feel tight, almost like he misses Niall even though it’s only been a couple hours since he left for practice, but it makes him think about what Zayn just said.

He keeps scrolling through his photos, each one as familiar as the next, until he stops when he notices one that he doesn’t remember taking. That’s because he didn’t, he realizes quickly. It’s a picture of him, asleep in Niall’s bed, the sheets pooling dangerously low around his hips that he can see the curve of his bum. It’s a very artistic shot, though, and Harry probably would’ve taken the picture too if it were Niall.

Harry’s chest aches again, but this time for a different reason. He stares at the picture, putting himself in Niall’s shoes, wondering what was going through Niall’s mind when he took this. How long had he been watching Harry sleep? Harry supposes that it doesn’t really matter because Niall thought he was beautiful enough to take a picture of, and Harry can’t help but smile.

“You’re happy aren’t you?” Zayn asks, breaking Harry out of his stupor.

Harry nods, blinking rapidly like he's trying to stave off tears. If he hadn't already told Niall that he loved him, he definitely would've done it now, and he'd have every confidence that Niall still would've said it back. “Yeah,” he says, muttering a quick goodbye to Zayn as he heads back to his room to work on his photography project. He's finally figured out what it's going to be about.

-

Once he gets back to his room Harry opens his laptop and plugs in his camera so he can upload all of his photos, all five hundred and fifty-one of them. He skims through them, making mental notes of which ones to put in his project - which ones will tell his story best.

He's pretty sure his cheeks are going to hurt by the end of this, the way he can't seem to stop smiling, Niall's own smile too contagious through the screen.

He stares at the older photos a bit longer than the others, the ones he took those first few days he saw Niall in the courtyard, before he even knew his name. He never would've thought that it would have led to where they are now, but he couldn't be happier because he loves Niall, and Niall loves him too.

There's a soft knock on his door as Harry's resting his head against the back of his chair, his eyes struggling to stay open as he thinks about taking a quick kip. He's too lazy to get up, so he just tells the person on the other side of the door to, “Come in.”

He knows he really shouldn't be surprised to see Niall, but he is, immediately perking up and flailing a hand out to shut his laptop so Niall can't sneak a peek at the screen.

“What are you working on?” Niall asks, plopping down on Harry's bed, one arm tucked behind his head as he mindlessly scratches at his belly. Harry's fingers itch with the urge to take a picture, but he's not the boy with a crush hiding behind a camera anymore, so he settles for the next best thing and crawls onto the bed, wrapping himself around Niall.

“Nothing,” Harry deflects, humming as Niall scratches at his scalp. “How was practice?”

“Boring,” Niall says.

Harry looks up at him with a frown. “Why?”

“Because you weren't there,” Niall says, smiling like the sap that he is. Zayn's called Harry a sap plenty of times, but Niall just might be worse than him. Harry doesn't mind though. “And Louis kept trying to kick the ball toward my head so I'd stop thinking about you.”

“Were you?” Harry asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Maybe,” Niall replies, a slight smirk on his lips as he tilts Harry's chin forward so he can kiss him. It's just a sweet peck, but it sends Harry's heart racing all the same. “So, how'd your meeting with Zayn go?”

“Good,” Harry says succinctly.

“What'd you talk about?”

“Him and Liam. Me. You,” Harry says, running a finger through the small patch of chest hair that peeks out over the top of Niall's t-shirt.

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Harry nods, his chin digging into Niall's chest as he does so. “What'd you say about me? All good things, I hope.”

Harry smiles. “Of course. Zayn said he’d date you if he wasn't already taken,” he says, and Harry knows Zayn would kill him if he found out Harry passed on that information, but he only promised not to tell Liam, not Niall. But it's worth it for the way Niall laughs, his stomach shaking under Harry's. “And I told him that I want to too. Date you, I mean.”

Niall only looks slightly confused as he asks, “Aren't we, though? Dating?”

Harry shrugs. They could be. They've gone on dates, they sleep together, they spend almost everyday together, and they've said those three magic words to each other, but they haven't put a label on what they are yet, and now Harry wants to. “I guess, but I meant like, officially.”

Niall seems to catch on then, the right side of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “You want to call me your boyfriend,” he says, and it sounds more like he's stating a fact rather than asking a question. Harry nods.

“Only if you want the same.”

“Reckon I wouldn't mind that,” Niall says, his hand sliding up under the back of Harry's shirt, his fingers feeling cool against Harry's heated skin.

They're lying so close to together, Harry's body flush against Niall's, their legs tangled together, and Harry can feel Niall's heartbeat against his own chest. He's still looking at Niall though, and he's sure he could get lost in the blueness of his eyes, like being lost at sea. It hits Harry again, like a punch to the chest, how much he loves this boy, but it's the best feeling in the world.

“I love you,” he whispers against Niall's lips as he leans in for another kiss. It doesn't give Niall the chance to respond verbally, but Harry can feel the distinct shape of a heart being drawn on his lower back, and Harry knows Niall's saying that he loves him too.

-

They’re in the kitchen, Niall sitting on the counter while his eyes follow Harry as he moves between the fridge and the cabinets, gathering everything he needs to make brownies. They’d wandered in here after Harry mentioned that he’d felt like baking something, and Niall followed without hesitation, because it’s not like he was going to say no.

Harry’s got all the ingredients gathered on the kitchen island, Niall sitting across from him and watching intently as Harry begins cracking eggs into a large bowl while he waits for the oven to heat up.

“Can I help?” Niall asks, his fingers drumming on the countertop, like he can’t just sit still and watch.

“Sure,” Harry says, sliding another bowl over to Niall, along with the butter, cocoa powder and sugar. “Put those into the bowl and then heat it up in the microwave.”

Niall nods and does as he’s told, mixing the ingredients together and then places it into the microwave to the melt the butter and create the base of the brownie mix. He brings it back over to Harry once it’s done, and Harry adds in white and brown sugar, three eggs and vanilla extract. He hands the whisk over to Niall so he can add in the dry ingredients.

Niall keeps whisking the mixture until Harry’s added in all the flour and salt and they’ve got a complete bowl full of brownie batter.

“You’re a natural,” Harry says, and Niall smiles, helping Harry pour the batter into a pan. It reminds Harry of being a child in his kitchen at home and helping his mum bake. Her little assistant, she called him. He now has one of his own, and although Harry usually enjoys baking alone, he doesn’t mind having Niall around.

Harry places the brownies in the oven, humming under his breath like he normally does when he bakes, and he’s barely closed the oven door when he feels a hand pat his bum. He turns around to see the mischievous look on Niall’s face. He looks like he’s trying to bite back a grin, and he’s also hiding his hands behind his back, so Harry feels like he’s missing something.

The second Harry twists around to look at his bum and sees a bright white handprint on his black jeans, Niall bursts out laughing. “These were new!” Harry whines, which only makes Niall laugh harder. Harry narrows his eyes at him, trying to hold back every urge to retaliate because he likes to keep a neat kitchen.

Niall, however, doesn’t seem to care and reaches his hand into the flour again.

“If you make a mess, I’m never letting you bake with me again,” Harry warns, trying to keep some distance between him and Niall, but then his back hits the counter and can only watch as Niall grins devilishly as he approaches and leaves a matching flour handprint on Harry’s chest. Niall laughs again. He’s enjoying this way too much.

Niall crowds up against him so he can't move, and Harry barely has the chance to duck before Niall brings his hand up and smears a little bit of the leftover batter onto his cheek. He looks smug, which Harry expects, but what Harry  _ doesn't _ expect is for Niall to lean forward and lick it off.

Harry opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then Niall dips his finger into more of the batter and smears it over Harry's parted lips. “Are you trying to make me as messy as possible?” Harry asks.

“Maybe.” Niall smirks as he sucks the chocolate off his finger. “But the clean-up can be fun too,” he says, and before Harry can ask what he means by that, Niall's leaning forward again, his lips a gentle pressure against Harry's. He tugs on his bottom lip, and Harry lets out a soft moan as Niall licks the batter off.

Harry decides to use the distraction to finally retaliate, not caring about how dirty the kitchen’ll be because he's knows he's already going to be cleaning it up later, and dumps a handful of flour on Niall's head. He tries not to laugh as Niall pulls away, looking affronted.

There's a split second where Niall's expression changes, one that says,  _ this means war _ , and this time Harry does duck behind the island as Niall reaches for more flour, the kitchen soon a haze of white powder. They're both breathless with laughter by the end of it, their brownies (nearly) forgotten.

-

Harry used to hate studying - despised it even - no matter how important it was, but he's finding it to be a little bit better when Niall's in the room with him - a steady presence that helps him concentrate. (There's also the added incentive that he gets to kiss Niall when he's done.)

But today feels like one of those early days when Harry couldn't concentrate because the cute boy who worked at the library was sitting five feet away from him. He can't focus, but it's only because Harry's been working on perfecting his project for the last few days, and ever since he finished it last night, he's been dying to show Niall.

He’s about to ask him to come back to his room, but Niall looks so deep in concentration as he flips through the pages of his textbook, Harry wonders if he should wait. It's not a question of whether or not Niall will like it, because Harry knows he will, but it's more about how Niall will react. He could stare in amazement, shock or fascination or he could even tear up a bit, and that's what Harry loves about photography and art in general, it can garner so many different reactions.

But right now Niall's is the only one that matters.

Harry crawls up Niall’s body and rests his chin on on the top of Niall’s textbook where it sits in his lap. Niall glances at him and smiles softly at Harry as he rubs a thumb over his cheek. “What are you doing?” Harry asks.

“Trying to study, but my boyfriend is distracting me,” Niall says, and Harry grins despite himself. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing Niall call him his boyfriend.

“Well, maybe you should stop then,” Harry says, slowly moving Niall’s textbook away from his lap, and when Niall doesn’t stop him, he continues, “I know something better you could be doing.”

That seems to perk Niall’s interest. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“You could come back to my room and I could show you something,” Harry says, his voice much lower than he intended, but he has Niall's attention nonetheless.

“Can't you just show me here?” Niall asks reasonably.

“No.”

“What is it?”

“Can't tell you,” Harry says, leaning forward so he can whisper in Niall's ear, “It’s a surprise.”

Niall looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn't resist when Harry stands up and drags Niall with him.

The walk over to Harry's dorm is quiet for the most part, save for the occasional question from Niall about why he's being taken to Harry's room and what he's about to see. Harry just remains vague in his responses and assures Niall that he's going to like it.

Harry takes a deep breath before he opens his door to calm the racing of his heart. He spent nearly three weeks just trying to come up with an idea for this project, and now it’s done, and he’s ready to show it to Niall.

He steps aside once the door’s opened to let Niall inside, and Harry can immediately see the way his face changes. He’s barely crossed the threshold when Harry sees Niall’s eyes light up and his jaw drop in surprise as he looks around the room.

Harry’s hung up all the photos in his project around his room, like a timeline of his time spent with Niall, the ones he took from the courtyard seamlessly transitioning into the more recent ones. Harry kind of wants to take another picture now, but he doesn’t, and just paints the image in his mind as Niall takes it all in. He seems at a loss for words, but then again so is Harry.

“What is this?” Niall finally asks.

“My photography project.”

“But they’re all pictures of me,” Niall says, turning back around to look at Harry for the first time since he stepped into the room. He still looks a bit dumbfounded, and Harry can’t help but smile.

“Because my project is about you,” Harry easily replies. “It’s called, ‘How I fell in love.’”

Niall can’t seem to do much more than blink, like he’s still trying to process everything around him. He glances at the photos again, and Harry thinks he understands now, the way the pictures tell a story - the story of Niall and Harry, through Harry's eyes. “You did your project about me?” Niall asks softly, like he's trying to convince himself that this is real. “Why?”

“Because you wrote a song for me to show me how much you love me, and this is my way of showing you how much I love you.”

Niall just shakes his head, like he still can't believe it, but he's smiling and that's all that Harry could ask for. “You're amazing,” he says, reaching out his hand and Harry takes it easily, letting Niall pull him closer.

“So, do you like it?” Harry asks.

“I love it,” Niall says, his thumb rubbing across the back of Harry's hand where their fingers are linked. “But I love you more, though.”

“Sap,” Harry teases, but he's still grinning and his heart beats against his chest. He doesn't mind a bit of sappiness every now and then.

Harry doesn't object when Niall leans in for a kiss, just stumbles a bit, his legs suddenly feeling weak underneath him. Niall walks them backwards until Harry's back hits the door again, the kiss turning more heated as Niall's hands skim down his sides. Harry shivers as Niall places a kiss to the hinge of Harry's jaw and his neck before he drops to his knees.

“Niall -” Harry says, the words dying on his tongue as he watches Niall's fingers undo his belt, pulling down his jeans and boxers before he wraps a hand around Harry's hardening dick.

“Shh,” Niall says, his eyes flicking up to meet Harry's as he trails his tongue up the underside of Harry's cock before he takes him into his mouth.

Harry moans as his knees buckle and he struggles to find something to hold onto. His hands flail out beside him, one hand landing on the doorknob and the other landing on his camera. Harry almost wants to laugh at the fact that he's even thinking about taking a picture at a moment like this, but it's not like anyone else would ever have to see it. It'd be for Harry, and only Harry.

Niall’s lips look utterly debauched around his cock, but he pulls off when he hears the shutter click of the camera. “What are you doing?” he questions. “If you put that in your project -”

“Don't worry,” Harry says placatingly, reaching down to cup Niall's jaw. “That one’s just for my personal collection.”

-

Harry sprints through the courtyard, muttering hurried apologies as he bumps into a few people on the way, but he's only got one thing on his mind and he's too happy to care. It's been a week since Harry's photography project was due, and he finally got his grade for it. He can't wait to tell Niall.

When he finally makes it to Niall's room, he doesn't bother knocking, just barges right in, much to the surprise of Niall, who startles from his spot on the bed. He seems relieved when he realizes it's only Harry, but looks slightly concerned at Harry's heavy breathing. Maybe he should've jogged instead.

“You okay?” Niall asks, moving so he's now sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Yeah,” Harry says, sitting down next to Niall as he waits for his breathing to calm down enough so he can explain. “I finally got a grade on my photography project.”

“Oh?” Niall prompts.

“I got an A!” Harry says excitedly, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

“That's great, babe!” Niall says, beaming as he squeezes Harry's hand and kisses his cheek. “I'm so proud of you.”

“I've got you to thank for it, though,” Harry says, knocking his shoulder against Niall's. “My project was so good I think my professor fell in love with you too.”

Niall laughs. “Did you tell her I'm taken?”

“Well,  _ he _ just said that I'm lucky to have you,” Harry says, mimicking the soft smile that crosses Niall's face. His professor’s right, he's very fortunate to have found Niall and he's glad that he did.

“I'm lucky to have you, too,” Niall says before he leans in, his lips brushing softly against Harry's. It still makes Harry's heart race and his breath catch in his throat, each kiss just as good as the first.


End file.
